Chapter Six: Desmond
Desmond drove humming along to some song on the radio that he didn’t know the words to. It was either that or resign his active brain power to thinking about Claire, which he wasn’t allowing himself to do.
His summer cottage came into view, and he smiled at the large house. Claire would roll her eyes if she knew he had another home just outside of Farthingtowne. He was about fifteen minutes out and debated going to check on Violet, but decided against it.
For one, she was getting grouchy in her final trimester and was prone to mood swings. And second, if he went, then Frank would ask why he hadn’t told him he was headed that way, and then Desmond would feel bad for not carrying Violet some kind of message from Frank. The two were like star-crossed lovers, and since Frank was neck deep in tax returns and IRS debates, it seemed too much work for a quick check in. Desmond didn’t want those kinds of problems.
As soon as he thought it, his dragon made him think he wouldn’t be so averse to it if it was Claire instead of Violet. He shooed the thought away as he climbed out of his car and checked out his property. He had a hired hand who came out to clean the place once a month. She was one of the few humans who lived in town and was sworn to secrecy, so he didn’t have to hide what he was. He was really only out here to fly. This close to dragon town, he would be safe as long as he was invisible and mindful to stay in the dragon zone.
He hoped.
Since Frank mentioned strangers in the area, he had been cautious. Everyone had been. The two men at the grocery store had disappeared not long after talking to Frank, and so far, no one had seen them again. Though, that was questionable since the description of the man who broke into the hospital seemed pretty close to the one Frank saw on his property.
Either way, Desmond wouldn’t quit flying. It was in his blood. He needed to fly as much as he needed to breathe, but he wasn’t ignorant. He knew how important it was to be cautious and on the lookout for danger, even if he didn’t find any. In his experience, danger seemed to come when you least expected it.
Desmond unlocked the front door and walked around. The mansion had six bedrooms, four bathrooms, a pool, and a game room. He could tell the cleaner had been through recently, and after a quick look around, he was certain nothing was out of place. He stripped as he walked, undoing his cufflinks, setting his jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, and hanging his pants over the back to prevent creases. Even though he had no plans to go back to work, he wanted to look his best, just in case he saw Claire again.
He shifted and welcomed the beast inside him. His scales were mocha brown like his skin, with an even darker brown underbelly and brown eyes. He was almost monochrome except for his talons and horns which were black. He stomped his feet and twitched as he cloaked himself in invisibility. Only when he was sure he was not visible to the naked eye did he take off into the sky.
The wind against his wings was a relief, and he pushed through the clouds, loving the way they felt on his cheeks. Flying was an aphrodisiac that never got old. He flew upward, higher and higher, until he was past airplane zones and there was nothing but thin air and the sun before turning head first and falling downward. If anyone could see him, it would look like he was falling to his death, but he wasn’t. He just liked the feel of gravity on him.
He laughed a sound that was something like wheezing as he pulled himself up at the last minute and coasted right above the ground. He flapped his wings, taking him above the forest, and hovered, extending his psychic abilities. In the city, he rarely used his magic. There were too many people, and humans felt things differently than dragons; their aura was darker and more chaotic. Those with magic were usually much more aware of their auras and took to regularly cleansing their aura and their environment.
Without pushing too far, he could sense the people of the town. There were so many dragons living here, Desmond could only wonder what would happen if the government suddenly did believe all the rumors about dragons being real. It definitely wouldn’t be good, and he knew he and his friends would be in trouble. He tried to push those thoughts away.
He found his parents’ home, although they weren’t there. They were currently in Europe taking some kind of honeymoon trip. They seemed to go on one every year. He pushed further, feeling the hospital and all the patients, including Violet. She was eating a typical dragon dish and frowning at the TV. She probably missed Claire. So did he, even though he had just seen her.
Desmond sighed, pulling back his magic. He was not supposed to be thinking about Claire. But she was everywhere to him. He couldn’t figure out why. It didn’t make any sense. He just kept showing up and getting in her way. Which wasn’t his MO at all. He shifted back to his human form and walked into the house, naked but ready to keep his mind busy again. He didn’t need to be thinking of someone he was sure wasn’t thinking about him.
Instead, he called Monica. She worked at Believer’s Hand, a faith-based philanthropy organization, and although he’d never donated to her organization, he wanted to give it a try. It was worth doing if he was able to talk to someone that wasn’t Claire so he could stop thinking about her for at least five minutes.
It shouldn’t be that hard to stop focusing on Claire, a girl that clearly wasn’t interested in him or anything he had to offer. What did she call him all those months ago at Frank’s bachelor party? An ‘egotistical asshole.’ That didn’t create confidence in him, but still, she hadn’t been shooing him away from her store recently, and she had been rolling her eyes at him less and less, but she still wasn’t interested in him, and he needed to focus on something and somebody else.
“Believer’s Hand, this is Monica speaking,” she said, and he smiled. She was always so cheerful. It didn’t sound like the fake voice a lot of people put on over the phone when they worked in customer service. This was real, and this is how Monica always sounded.
She always sounded like she was filled with light, and it didn’t seem like there would ever come a time when that light would extinguish. He loved talking to her just because of that. It was nice talking to someone who didn’t want to fight with him every time he opened his mouth. It was a welcome change of pace.
“Hey, Monica. This is Desmond.”
“Hey, Desmond. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to take you to lunch sometime next week. Are you available? It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other,” he said
Desmond thought he heard a squeak of surprise but, ever the professional, her voice didn’t reveal a thing. “Sure,” she said. “How soon are we talking? I could make time today. Or really, any day this week.”
“Give me a few days. I need to get a few things settled first, then we can meet up to talk about it.”
“What about this Friday?”
That gave him a little under a week. “Perfect. Do you have anything against Chipotle?”
“What, are you kidding?” She laughed. “I love that place.” He could see that.
“Then we can meet there. Get a bowl or burrito and then go somewhere quiet to talk. Maybe take a walk around the park down the street.”
“That sounds great,” she said, sighing and Desmond hoped she wasn’t getting the wrong idea.
“Okay then. I’ll see you there. Thanks, Mon.”
She giggled. “It’s a pleasure, Desmond.”