The palm-sized scales were nice, but smaller ones would allow him to play around with armor designs. He climbed up onto the dragon’s head and started prying off smaller scales around its eyes that were closer to the size of his fingernails. By the time he filled up the gym bag with scales of various sizes, it weighed forty pounds or so, which was all he was comfortable rucking around with. He dropped down to the dragon’s mouth.
“Moira,” Jeremy called over his shoulder, “Were you actually able to puncture the scales with your teeth?”
“I don’t know.” She wandered over and knelt to inspect the wound in the dragon’s neck, “It all happened so fast, but it looks like my teeth broke some of the scales.”
The scales looked punctured. Upon closer inspection, there were giant holes in them that did go through the scales, not just shove past them to the skin. That meant the teeth were strong enough to make holes in the smaller scales to be sewn into a shirt for armor. Jeremy dug out a few of the smaller teeth, from about the size of his forearm down to the size of a finger.
By now, several cars had pulled over instead of turning around. People exited the cars and came over to check the scene. A few folks also came out of the townhomes up and down the streets.
“This shit’s bulletproof,” Qince told some of the onlookers when they got close enough to ask what was going on. Jeremy zipped the gym bag shut and hauled it over his shoulder. He looked around for Moira, who was back by the car. He avoided the growing crowd to join her.
“I don’t think we will be taking this anywhere else.” She patted the car.
“Well, we have a dragon now,” Jeremy said.
Moira snorted, “I am not giving you a ride.”
“It’s probably not a good idea for her to go around changing.” Qince popped up next to them, “People were taking shots at that dragon all morning. They’ll probably shoot at you if you turn into a dragon, too.”
“Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Moira chuckled.
“Where are you two headed?” Qince asked. They glanced at each other. Jeremy may have been through several life-or-death experiences, including the literal end of the world as they knew it, with Moira. Still, they certainly were not able to communicate telepathically. They had known each other for less than twenty-four hours, after all. He hoped she didn’t say anything about her family secrets and uncle’s penthouse, but he couldn’t read her intentions. They spoke at the same time.
“Finding her boyfriend.”
“Getting his cat.”
Qince looked between them. “Okay. Well, you’re probably better off on foot anyway. There’s been more and more accidents, and nobody is cleaning them up.”
“Yeah,” Moira glanced around the crossroads, “We’ve been realizing that.”
“Good, good. Alright, you all heading out then?”
“His cat hasn’t been fed since last night,” Moira said.
“He’ll probably be pissed at you.” Qince stuck out his hand, “Good luck.”
Jeremy shook his hand, then watched as Moira did the same, “Thanks for letting me borrow your gun. And for the knife.”
“No problem!” Qince ran back over to the dragon carcass, “Stay safe out there!”
They watched him go over and recount the fight to the crowd, waving his arms around animatedly. A few people had already pulled out their own knives and started carving up the dragon for supplies. Jeremy watched someone try to slice off some of the translucent wing skin. Their knife would not pierce it.
“You ready to go?” Moira asked.
“Hang on.” He let his bag slump to the ground and grabbed one of the pointy dragon teeth. When he reached the wing, the guy trying to cut it stepped back with a groan of frustration.
“Have at it, man.” He spat, “I can’t cut it.”
“This probably can,” Jeremy held up the tooth. It punctured the skin with relative ease but was not an efficient tool for cutting. The tip was very pointy, but the edge of the tooth was rounded, so he had to keep perforating and tearing the skin to end up with a sizeable length of it. The claw would probably work better, but that was much too large. The guy with the knife went and got his own tooth.
“Good idea!” He started carving out his piece of wing as Jeremy rolled his up. He nodded to the guy, then went and tucked the skin and tooth into the bag.
“Now I’m ready.” He told Moira. She stood up from her slump against the car.
“I wonder if you can eat dragon meat.” She said as she watched people cutting the carcass apart.
“Dunno.” Jeremy lifted the bag over his head, “Did you grab the snacks from the car?”
She patted her backpack. Jeremy nodded, and then, with one more backward glance, they headed down the street toward the park from which the dragon had emerged. The dragon had been lumbering around this neighborhood all morning, it seemed. Not only were benches crushed and trees broken in the park, but many of the façade fronts of buildings were shattered, and the cars along the road were scraped by the sharp scales.
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“So, was it like a stress thing?” Jeremy asked, “That you were able to turn into a dragon?”
Moira hummed, “No, I think I could do it again, but I don’t think I have the energy.”
“The energy?”
“Yeah,” She huffed out a tired laugh, “I feel exhausted like I ran a marathon or climbed Mount Everest or something.”
Jeremy stopped walking. Moira kept going a few steps before she realized he was not beside her, then looked over her shoulder. Her eyes seemed caught in a thousand-mile stare. She stood with her arms limp by her sides, fingers loosely wrapped around the bag of snacks. A stiff breeze could probably knock her over.
“Do you want to rest for a bit?” He asked.
“No.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, then looked down at it in surprise, as though she had not realized her arm had moved. “Your place is pretty close, right? And then Derek’s is just a few more blocks downtown. We have to keep moving.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy adjusted the bag’s strap on his shoulder, “Alright.”
They walked for a little longer. Moira’s boots dragged across the concrete. The city was eerily quiet. Fewer cars passed than normal, and there were no other pedestrians. It was like a repeat of the pandemic when everyone stayed glued to their screens, drinking in the statistics and press releases. Jeremy wondered if they had started compiling statistics for this disaster yet. It has not been a full day yet, but he has already seen a handful of bodies. It suddenly occurred to him that he forgot to ask someone to call 911 after the dragon attack. It probably would not matter anyway.
“Would you be able to conjure a stone right now?” Jeremy asked.
“I can’t even conjure a thought.”
“Okay.” Jeremy pulled out his notebook and flipped to Moira’s page. He noted that transforming into a dragon left her exhausted and unable to perform any other spells. Below it, he wrote ‘time limit?’, then tucked the notebook back into his pocket. He freed his hands just in time to grab Moira as she stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk.
“Let’s stop.” He put more authority behind his voice than he usually bothered with. This time, Moira nodded. Her eyes were falling shut as she stood. They were still over an hour's walk from his apartment. That might mean it would take them five hours to get there, although he still was not sure how the warping of distances worked in urban areas. Even if it were only an hour, Moira would not be able to make it.
The only things around were townhomes and the park. It was a nice neighborhood, so they probably wouldn’t find a vacant house to squat in. All the stoops looked clean and maintained. There were no for sale signs. That left the park with its small woodland. The trees were not all that dense, but it had a thick understory. They might find some shelter in the bushes even though being outside was not the best option.
Jeremy led Moira over and helped her climb through a particularly gnarly patch of wild roses. Leaves rustled underfoot. They were brown and decaying from last year. It would be difficult for anything to move through them without making noise. Jeremy felt confident that he could hear any strange creature’s approach.
“Take a nap.” He told Moira.
“Don’t let me sleep too long.” She mumbled as she lay on her side, arm pillowed beneath her head. When Jeremy did not respond, she peeked one eye open to glare at him.
“I won’t,” he held his hands up in defense, “I’d rather get to my apartment before nightfall anyway.”
Assured, Moira closed her eyes. Jeremy pulled out his notebook again and tapped his pen on his chin. If he looked around, he could see the overlays on the trees, thorny roses, and even a butterfly that fluttered overhead. He sat as still as possible and copied each, drawing the runes and noting the colors. He started to notice different shades the longer he looked. For the most part, everything around him was a deep crimson. But there were a few subtle differences.
A gnarled old oak to his left had a slightly brighter shade of red than most of the thinner, pole-sized trees around it. He stared at the massive tree in shock. He certainly did not know every tree in this park, but he was familiar enough with it to know that that tree had not been there before. Its enormous boughs hung down over what had previously been a large expanse of grass. People used to toss frisbees for their dogs and that sort of thing in that space. He scribbled a note about the tree’s sudden appearance and its different color.
After about thirty minutes of studying butterflies and trees, his brain hurt. A headache bloomed behind his eyes and crept to the back of his head until his neck felt stiff as well. He wondered if this was a manifestation of exhaustion from looking at the overlays. Doing so was not an active spell, but it was wrapped up in magic. If casting spells and turning into dragons could drain a person, it was feasible that this passive skill sapped his energy on some level, especially if he focused it. He created a page for himself and wrote, ‘30 min obs. – headache’. Then he tucked the notebook away.
Moira remained dead to the world, her lips parted around soft snores and drool. Jeremy re-tied his sneakers. He poked around in the bag of dragon scales. If he dragged the tip of one scale across another, it scratched it. The scales were sharp along the edges. They were not quite knife-sharp like the dragon’s claws had been, but they might make excellent weapons as well as armor. Jeremy scraped his thumb along the edge of one. The shape and sharpness reminded him of a prehistoric spear or arrowhead. Maybe he could find a handle and fashion himself a spear. If the scales were bulletproof, he imagined they would make sturdy blades. He looked around for a stick.
A rustle nearby drew his attention to the thorn bushes. Slowly, he zipped the bag of scales shut and reached over to shake Moira’s ankle. She roused with an irritated groan.
“Shush,” he hissed, “there’s something in the bushes with us.”
“Probably a squirrel.” Moira rolled over, “Always make lots of noise.”
Jeremy peered into the bushes. From within the shadows, they peered back. He shot to his feet, grabbing the bag and Moira’s arm to haul them along. Moira shouted and tried to shove him away, but he fled in the opposite direction through a dense gathering of thankfully non-thorny saplings. Moira managed to struggle free from his grasp as they cleared the small woodland and burst onto the grass.
“That was not a squirrel.” Jeremy huffed. His heart pounded in his chest. The eyes had been wide, glowing, and unlike anything he had ever seen. They reminded him of the old god when it was still bound by the spell, crawling through the tunnels beneath the pond. Not quite human, but intelligent.
“Fine, whatever. How long was I asleep?”
“About forty minutes.” Jeremy crowded her out of the park to distance them from whatever that creature had been. Nothing followed them out of the woods, but the hairs on the back of Jeremy’s neck stood on end as though they were being watched.
The sun sank below the roofs of the townhouses, casting the street into shadow in a preview of the upcoming dusk and darkness. A chill ran up Jeremy’s spine. He did not want to be outside when darkness fell. Moira protested when he sped them along faster.
“Wait, Jesus.” She wrenched herself away and stopped dead in the middle of the crosswalk. “My lace is untied; hang on.”
Jeremy waited on the other side of the road, his bones practically jittering out of his body he felt so on edge. “Is the middle of the street the best place to do that?”
Moira stood up and spread her arms wide, gesturing to the empty streets with raised eyebrows. Jeremy clenched his jaw and looked away. He looked back at the park as Moira trudged over to him. It took immense effort, but he managed to turn his back on the small woodland and continue down the street without glancing over his shoulder like some hapless person running from something in a movie. He did keep an eye on his peripherals despite his splitting headache.