Fever Dream, Pt. Three

So I was standing once again on a beach of gray sand, with two—my eyes were blurry, maybe three?—red moons dropping down toward the horizon. The water churned in a wide, furious whirlpool, and a thick red tentacle shot from the waves.

            “Uh, what is this?”

            I twisted around. Rachel wore a chain mail bikini, the kind you see in comic books—Red Sonya!—and media conventions. I tried not to stare at her legs.

            She planted a fist on her hip. “Okay, I’m guessing this is your dream, not mine.”

            “Sorry.” I closed my eyes. Part of me hoped I could burn the sight of her body into my memory before I woke up. Mostly I hoped she wouldn’t just slug me.

            When I opened my eyes, she was wearing combat fatigues—jacket and boots, and dark aviator sunglasses. Still sexy. “Better?”

            She patted her pockets. “Lots of extra ammo. But I still don’t know how to reload. Can you work that into your next dream without having Princess Leia fantasies?”

            I swung around, the heavy sword shaking in my hand. “Let’s just . . .”

            “Get down!” Rachel fired her rifle as the monster rose from the sea. Four thick hairy legs, three white eyes, and too many red tentacles to count. It marched forward through the water, roaring like a bull elephant.

            The monster thrashed and lurched forward, and we backed away. More blood poured from its hatchet-shaped face, staining the sand, but it only roared again and surged toward us.

            Rachel threw her rifle down, the clip empty. “Run, you idiot!”

            I managed to hold onto my sword as we raced toward the castle. Rachel yanked the bell cord. The door slid open. Harry looked up at us. “Hi.”

            “Harry!” I pushed Rachel through the door. “Take care of her.”

            “What are you talking about?” Rachel stood up, panting. Somehow she was in the metal bikini again, and Harry was staring at her. “Oh, this is just great.”

            “Come on.” Harry led us through the same narrow passageway into the square, and this time we got a lot more attention from the citizens at the food carts. Probably because of Rachel.

            “Sorry.” We ran toward the temple, or whatever it was.

            Diamond came out in her black robe. She didn’t welcome me this time. Instead she looked up at the castle wall, where the monster’s arms were clutching the platform inside. Archers fired arrows and soldiers plunged swords and daggers into its thick skin, but this time it heaved its huge body up and over, its white eyes pulsing with furry.

            The platform collapsed. Defenders fell and died as the monster landed on the ground inside the square. Screams deafened the air as townspeople fled, seeking safety inside the temple.

            Harry cowered next to me. “You can save us. Please.”

            I didn’t know how. The monster lurched forward. Harry screamed and ran. Rachel tried to grab him, but he was lost in panic. Like everyone else.

            We watched, helpless, as a slender tentacle wrapped around his legs and lifted him high. Rachel’s scream was louder than anyone’s.

            I stepped forward and threw my sword as hard as I could. I missed.

            Harry looked back at my, his arms and legs flailing, and then he went into the monster’s jaws. I turned away.

            Diamond stood behind me. “You were supposed to be our hero!”

            “I don’t know how!” I stared at her. “Tell me what to do!”

            But she only stepped away. “You know.”

            “This is stupid!” Rachel punched my arm, but she looked ready to strangle Diamond. “Why are you bringing us here? I don’t know how to shoot a gun, Tom doesn’t know how to swing a sword—what do you want?”

            The monster howled behind us. Diamond just shook her head. And then she closed the door of the temple, leaving the rest of the city to face the monster.

“Damn it!” Rachel pounded her fist on the bed. “What did we do wrong?”

The room spun over my head. I grabbed a cord and hit the call button. “Hey, uh, we need some help here . . .”

“Oh god.” Rachel rolled her head. “Oh god, I’m going to . . . Uh-oh.” She leaned over the bed railing and threw up on the floor.

            A nurse burst into the room. “What’s going on?”

            “Check on my girlfriend.” Rachel was twitching as if she was having a seizure. I clutched my water, my arms shaking. “And me too, when you have the time.” Oh hell, what had I done to her?

            Eventually Rachel settled back and breathed normally. A doctor and two nurses crowded around her bed.

            The first nurse pressed some kind of digital thermometer into my arm. “The fever is spiking. “Hey! Get this guy more fluids!”

            The doctor turned from Rachel’s bed. “Mr. Jurgen? I’m Doctor Brown.” He had a mild Jamaican accent. Your wife is fine, but—”

            “Not my wife.” My head was swimming. “I mean, I’m Jurgen. That’s Rachel, she’s my girlfriend—”

            “In your dreams, you jerk!” Rachel raised a hand, but she was too far away to hit me. “I mean—okay, yeah. Girlfriend. Dreams. Make sure he’s okay, all right? I need to . . .” Her head dropped back onto her pillow.

            “Help her.” My throat felt raw. “We’ve got to help all of them.”

            “Okay, okay.” Dr. Brown felt my forehead and checked my pulse at the same time. “You’re both going to be fine.”

            “But not the rest of them.” I struggled to breathe. “We’ve got to help them. Rachel? Are you there?”

            “Ohh . . .” Rachel groaned. “Do we have to do it again? That little boy—Harry? I don’t want it to happen again.”

            “It won’t.” I closed my eyes. “Stay awake. I’ve got this.”

            “You idiot. I . . . don’t do anything stupid.”

            “More fluids.” The doctor’s voice was harsh. “And get them both on . . .”

            I closed my eyes. Okay, I was ready now. Maybe.

I’m standing on a beach of gray sand. Again. At least now I’m in jeans and my windbreaker. No sword. No weapon. I’m just watching three red moons descend into the sea.

            “Hey, Tom.” It’s Rachel, right behind me. “Where are we going?”

            I twist my head. Rachel’s in tight yoga pants and a loose tank top. So whose dream is it now? I don’t know. I don’t want to take my eyes off of her. But I know the monster is rising from the water.

            I take a step back. “We have to kill that thing. Somehow.”

            “No. I mean . . .” Her breath whispers at my neck. “About us?”

            Oh god. Definitely my dream. Or my nightmare. “Can we talk about this later?”

            “We may not have time.” She points. The creature is stumbling out toward the shore.

            “Okay, okay.” I swung around and grab her arm. “I love you. You know that, right? Let’s go.”

            “Good enough.” Rachel runs. I follow. The beast from the sea pursues us as we race once again toward the castle.

            Rachel reaches the gate first and pulls the bell. It rings high in the air.

            The door slides open. It’s Harry again. I push Rachel through first. “Take care of her.” My voice is raspy. And my heart is pounding.

            Harry squirms, but then he grabs Rachel’s arm and plunges down the passageway. “Hurry!”

            We’re out in the courtyard. The same food carts serve the same desperate people, all looking for a hero to save them.

            Diamond gazes down at me. She opens her arms and smiles.

            “Citizens!” she shouts. “Here is Tom Jurgen! The hero who will save us! Welcome him!”

            Hero? I search for Rachel. She’s standing next to Harry, looking up at me. Shaking her head as all around her citizens run from the sound of booming feet outside the castle walls.

            Some of the fleeing townspeople gaze at me. Their faces are desperate. Some are crying. Men and women are grasping children in their arms, running as fast as they can toward the temple hatches.

            Harry pulls Rachel. She slaps his hand away. She plants her combat boots on the pavement and shoves him away. He shouts at her. Rachel crosses her arms and stays.

No. No . . .

            The creature clambers over the wall. Archers shoot and scatter. Citizens flee for the temple doors. I don’t see Harry anywhere. But Rachel is right down there . . .

            Then the monster leaps down into the square, its tentacles flying around. One knocks over a soldier trying to stab it with a sword. Another arm slams an old woman into the ground. A huge foot tromps on a young man pushing a screaming kid out of its path. Screams split the air.

            The monster rises up, roaring in fury.

            I don’t have any weapons. But somehow all these people expect me to save them. I turned around, glaring at Diamond in her short black robes “What do I do? How do I kill it?”

            She stands by the door, ready to lock herself up inside. “You don’t kill it, Tom Jurgen. That’s why you’re a hero.”

            Oh god. No. Does she mean . . .

            “Wait a minute!” I grab her robe. “Rachel’s down there! You can’t—”

            “We looked for someone to save us. Someone from another world. The creature chose you. That’s why you’re here.”

            Why they kept drawing me back and back. “Okay! What about Rachel? Do we wake up? Like in Inception? Is that what happens?”

            “You save us.” She glides away. “That’s all I know. But that’s why we need a hero.”

            Oh no. No, no, no, no, no . . .

            The monster pounds forward, its tentacles swinging left and right. An old man falls beneath one heavy foot. A little girl runs zigzag, narrowly avoiding one of its heavy, thrashing arms. People flow toward the temple hatches, desperate to escape.

            I can’t do this. I’m a coward. I run at the sight of trouble. No one’s ever called me brave. Or a hero.

            But screams pierce the air. Damn it. I have to do something.

            My life streams past me. It’s not all bad. Okay, professional disgrace, divorce, scraping money to pay the bills . . . but I’ve helped some people. And then there’s Rachel. Standing out there, looking at me. Maybe I could have done more, but . . .

            But for whatever reason, these people need me. Harry, and all those kids . . .

            So I stagger down the steps to meet the monster. “Hey you!”

            The creature actually seems to hear me. It pauses in its rampage, its hatchet head looming around.

            “Yeah, me!” I lean back. “Tom Jurgen! You want a piece of me? Come and get me, you asshole!”

            Tentacles rise up. Legs bend down. That big ugly face drops, and the jaws open wide.

            Okay. Okay. I can do this. Maybe. I take one last deep breath. “Do it, you bastard! Come on, are you scared? Why don’t you—”

            Oops. Sharp fangs tear at my body. I’m high up in the air, my body flailing around. I look back down at the square—

            And there’s Rachel gazing up at me from the middle of the square, one arm raised high. Giving me the finger.

            I laugh. I’m spinning, dizzy, nauseous, but somehow it’s okay. I bite my lip and close my eyes. I hope it won’t hurt too much . . .

I opened my eyes, breathing hard. At least I was breathing. “Is this heaven?”

            Rachel glared down at me. “I’m here. What do you think, jerk?”

            Dr. Raje patted my shoulder. “Your fever is down. How do you feel?”

            “J-just happy to be here.” I reached for my water. “What about—”

            “Your heart stopped!” Rachel loomed over me. “I’m legally prohibited from hitting you just now, but once we get home, oh boy . . .”

            My heart? I turned my head and saw two nurses packing up a crash cart. I knew it was a crash cart because I’d seen them on TV. My chest felt raw. But my heart was beating.

            Dr. Raje glared at Rachel. “Please don’t upset him.”

            Rachel backed away. Which almost never happens. “I was just scared.” She sat down on her bed. “Just make sure he’s okay.”

            Nurse Andrea was checking my blood pressure. “You’re back to normal. But you need to rest. No excitement.” She shot a glance at Rachel. “Either of you.”

            Rachel nodded. “Fine.” This was almost scarier than the monster.

            Dr. Raje pushed a jug of water at me. “You should rest. You’re getting better, and your girlfriend is almost completely free of the infection, but I want both of you here for another night at least. We’re starting another antibiotic, which should knock it out for good. In the meantime, lots of fluids. And rest. You too.” She smiled at Rachel. “Especially now.”

            Rachel hopped into her bed. “I was just nervous. I watch a lot of medical shows, you know?”

            “Watch something else tonight.” She tossed the remote. “I think there’s a Star Trek Next Generation marathon going on.”

            “Ooh, Captain Picard!” She started flipping through the channels.

            “You hate The Next Generation.” I closed my eyes.

            “I had to make her leave, didn’t I?” I could feel Rachel’s breath on my face as she leaned over me. “Are you okay?”

            “Harry’s fine.” I leaned over for my water, and Rachel pushed the straw to my lips. After a long gulp I leaned back, spilling water over the sheets. “How much did you see?”

            “People running. Screaming. And that thing climbing over the wall.” She rubbed her eyes. “And then some idiot yelling, ‘Do you want a piece of me?’”

            I smiled. “Someone gave me the finger.”

            “For Christ’s sake.” She leaned down to kiss my forehead. “What the hell were you thinking?”

            “I didn’t have time to think much.” Which was probably good. “They needed a hero.”

            “Jerk.” But she kissed me again. On the lips this time. “I need you too.”

* * *

I stand on a beach of coarse gray sand. Two red moons in a smoky twilight sky sink down slowly toward the surface of a dark sea.

Oh no—not again? But the water is calm now. And I don’t have a sword in my hands, or armor over my shoulders.

            The walls of the black castle rise high. Flags fly from its tall towers. I stare for a long time. Meat cooks from faraway stoves, and happy songs drift through the air.

            They never did identify the bacteria that caused the infection. Apparently that’s kind of common. The best Rachel and I could figure was that Diamond pushed it into our world and sent it straight to me, hoping I’d save her city. How she knew about me—and why she thought I’d be willing to sacrifice myself—was a mystery.

            I sink down on my knees and sift the sand through my fingers. Okay. Maybe it was all worth it. At least I know how to die.

            “Get up.” Rachel leans down to grab my hand. She’s in a red bikini top and tight black shorts “This outfit is a favor, so don’t get used to it. We’re going home.”

            I stand up. “Thanks.”

            Another kiss. “Don’t be a hero next time, okay?”

            “Whatever you say.” I close my eyes and wait to wake up.

# # #

Dragon's Gold

A hunt for stolen gold brings Tom and Rachel face to face with an ancient dragon . . .

Dragon's Gold, Pt. One

I turned the key in the lock, waited, and slowly turned the knob. And waited. Pushed the door open. And waited for an attack.

            Nothing. Either it wasn’t here, or it was waiting for me to get all the way inside.

            I definitely preferred the first possibility.

            I flipped the light switch next to the door. The front room looked like a rhinoceros—or a dragon—had hurtled through it, throwing chairs over, demolishing a sofa, and shattering a china cabinet. Wreckage filled the dining room and kitchen too: a smashed table, piles of broken plates and glasses, food from the cupboards and refrigerator a mess on the floor.

            The bedrooms upstairs were a similar shambles—sheets shredded, mattresses torn apart, dressers in splinters.

            All I had left was the basement.

            Damn it.

            I’d gotten my Taser from the car. Would a Taser stop the thing, or just make it angrier? But I figured that after wrecking most of the house in its rage, the dragon wouldn’t be hiding now. Especially from someone like me.

            So I opened the door and took the steps slowly, the Taser charged in my shaking hand. At the bottom step I flicked the lights on. Fluorescents jabbed my eyes.

            No dragon. More wreckage. My stomach quaked with relief.

            But now I had a bigger problem. Like a dragon.

It was 1:30 in the afternoon. Leo Jarvis sat in a wheelchair, an oxygen tank sitting on the floor next to him and a catheter bag hanging off the back. He wore pajamas and a blue bathrobe. His eyes were closed, as if I’d come to the house in the Ravenswood neighborhood in the middle of his afternoon nap.

 “Honey?” Jarvis’s wife Marie patted his arm. “Tom Jurgen is here. The detective.”

            Jarvis opened his eyes. “What? Oh.” He coughed. His white hair was thin over his scalp, and his arms were weak and bony. Marie held a straw to his lips. He took a shallow sip and then pushed the cup away. “I’m fine.”

            Marie perched on a chair. She looked younger than her husband. Maybe in her sixties, her hair a mix of silver and gold. Jarvis looked older, eighties or more, with big ears and a jutting chin.

The small living room was crammed with books, empty bottles of wine, and old newspapers and magazines stacked on every available surface.

            “So what can I do for you?” I wasn’t sure who to talk to.

            “My gold is gone.” Jarvis groaned, his throat raw and dry. “Ten thousand dollars in South African krugerrands. I had it downstairs, in a safe. My brother took it. I’m sure of that. But that’s not the worst part.”

            Stolen gold? That was interesting. Something different than shadowing cheating spouses or employees faking their disabilities. But what was the worse part? “Okay. Go on.”

            He coughed again. “Marie? More water. Tell him.”

            She held the straw as Jarvis drank. “It’s true. That’s why I called you. Your website . . . it seemed like you’re interested in unusual cases.”

            Unusual? Yeah. Or just weird. Supernatural and paranormal, definitely. That seems to be were most of my work comes these days. “I try to keep an open mind.”

            “Good.” Jarvis cleared his throat. “Because this is a problem. A big problem.”

            “So what’s the story?”

            Jarvis and his wife looked at each other. Marie nodded. Jarvis closed his eyes. For a moment I wasn’t sure he was still breathing. Then he lurched up, gasping for breath.

            “My dragon.” He rubbed his throat. “My dragon is gone.”

            “Dragon?”

            He swung a finger toward a door. “Show him.”

So Marie Jarvis took me down to the basement.

            The wooden stairs were solid, but the tile on the floor was wet. The chilly air smelled like rotting newspapers. And other stuff. Marie tugged a spring that brought a light bulb sputtering to life between two rafters in the middle of the ceiling.

            A thick pile of newspapers and wood chips lay pushed up against one corner—a year or two’s worth, ripped and soiled and arranged in a nest. In the opposite corner stood a tall metal safe, like something out of a bank in an old western movie.

            She turned the dial back and forth, and pushed down on a thick iron handle. I helped her pull the door back.

            The safe held a few thin envelopes, some canned goods, and an automatic pistol. Nothing else.

            “It was here. All of it.” Marie waved a hand. “Not just the krugerrands. There was some jewelry, some golden utensils like knives and spoons and cups. They’re all gone.”

            “And you think your brother-in-law took them.”

            “He’s the only other one who had the combination. We gave it to him in case—in case something happened. To us.”

            “And the dragon?”

            She pointed to the wall behind the stairs. Something had pulled bricks and dirt away into a pile of debris on the floor. “It must have gone to hunt for the gold once it was gone.”

            I leaned forward, planting a foot in the dirt. The hole in the wall was small and narrow, and dark as a black hole.

            I used my cellphone to cast a light. The tunnel bent in awkward angles, tangled roots holding up the dirt in a precarious formation that looked like it might bury the tunnel at any moment.

            But back in the distance, the tunnel snaked upward, toward—what? I shivered. I wasn’t going in there. Wherever it led. I’m stubborn, sometimes, but no one has accused me of being a hero.

I leaned back with a deep breath. Marie was watching me. “That’s where he went. It has to be. We found this hole two days ago. Leo sent me down to check the safe. That was Tuesday.”

Today was Thursday. So I asked the obvious question: “How do you even have a dragon?”

            Marie leaned against the staircase. “Leo’s grandfather brought it over from Europe. Between the World Wars. The jewelry was his. He brought the dragon to protect his own gold, and he gave it to Leo before he died.”

            She might have been talking about an ancient sword or an old firearm. “But it’s a dragon? Living in your basement? How does that work?”

            “He sleeps most of the time. For years. I only saw him awake once, two years ago, and even then he only rolled over once or twice. Leo brought down a couple of raw steaks, and he chomped them up in about two minutes. Leo said they can hibernate for centuries. Unless someone tries to take their gold.”

            “What happens then?” I guessed nothing good.

            She shivered. “He’ll . . . hunt for the gold. He can smell it—not just any gold, but just this gold. He won’t come back until he’s got it all.”

            Jarvis was asleep again when he came back up. Marie stroked his arm. “Leo? Leo, wake up.”

            “What?” He lurched up. “Oh. Right.” His head dropped forward. “Water?”

            She pushed the straw between his dried lips. He sipped, slowly. Then he leaned back. “Oh. Good.”

            Marie looked behind his chair. “Leo, we have to empty that bag soon.”

            “Fine. Just let me . . .” He rubbed his eyes. “Oh. You. We have to talk.”

            We certainly did. “So your dragon has escaped.”

            “My gold is gone!” He pounded the arm of his wheelchair. “I want it back!”

            I sat down. “What about your brother?”

            “That asshole?” Jarvis twisted around in his wheelchair. “After everything I’ve done for him?”

            “Leo. . ..” Marie leaned over him. “Shh. Shhh . . .”

            “Oh, go away!” Jarvis waved an arm. “I’ve lost my gold. What else am I supposed to do now?”

            “So why am I here?” I was annoyed at the way he treated his wife. And nervous about the possibility that they really wanted me to track down a dragon. “Mr. Jarvis? What do you want?”

            Jarvis sank down in his wheelchair. “Just find my brother. And my gold.”

            Right. “There are limits to what I can do. I’ll try to locate your brother—what’s his name?”

            “Daniel. Dan Jarvis.” He coughed. His finger pointed at the window. “He lives right over there.”

            Next door? I stood up. “Do you have a key?”

            “I should!” His voice trembled. “I paid for that house! Marie, find the key!”

            That was good news. If Leo was an owner, I could go in without risking a rap for illegal entry. Of course, if the dragon was inside . . .

It wasn’t. Which meant it was loose in Chicago.

            “Looking for my gold,” Jarvis rasped when I went back to tell them what I’d found. “They’re bred to protect it. It’s gone, and he won’t stop until he finds it.”

            Jarvis seemed to be more worried about getting his krugerrands back than about the dangers of a dragon on the streets, or under them. At least the news wasn’t suddenly packed with reports of a giant reptile attacking citizens. That suggested that the thing was lying low.

 “I’ll do what I can to find your brother before the dragon does.” I pulled out a notebook. “Where does he work?”

            I got some basic facts: Daniel Jarvis worked at an architectural firm downtown. He was 49, Leo’s younger brother by more than ten years. I got some photos.

            Then I asked about the dragon. Fifteen feet long, with dark bronze scales. Six legs, but no wings. Six-inch claws. Rows and rows of serrated teeth. And a name: Ramathor. Whether he would respond to that and a cookie was uncertain.

            Marie wrote a check for a retainer, and I went out to my Honda.

            So the first person I called was Rachel. Partly because she’s the first person I always want to call, being sort of my girlfriend, but also because she knows a lot about the supernatural—being sort of psychic.

            “I’m hunting a dragon,” I told her when she picked up.

            “Is that your Elmer Fudd impression? It needs work.”

            “No, there’s a real dragon.” I gave her a rundown. “I’m starting with the brother, but I need to know what to do if I find it.”

            “Run. Fast. Don’t get eaten. Does it breathe fire? Or fly?”

            “They didn’t mention that.”

            “Okay.” She sighed. “This is new, at least. A change of pace from vampires and demons. I’ll call some people. If you see it, try to get a picture. While you’re running away. And try not to get eaten.”

            I nodded, starting the car. “First thing on my to-do list.”

Jefferson & Associates LLC was located in a downtown highrise, taking up about half of the 9^th floor. An assistant at the front desk looked my card over, than picked up his phone and called the company president. A few minutes later I shook hands with Sheila Jefferson, an African American woman in her fifties in a blue work shirt and black jeans.

            “What can I do for you, Mr. Jurgen?” Jefferson sat down behind a glass-topped desk. “I have to tell you we haven’t seen Dan Jarvis since last Friday. He hasn’t answered phone calls or emails. We’re getting concerned.”

            “His brother is worried too.” I tried to think of questions that didn’t involve gold. Or dragons. “Did he do anything—unusual—in the last week or so? Spending more money, going out at night?”

            “Not particularly.” Jefferson shrugged. “He’s pretty reliable. Late sometimes, but he usually makes up for it. I don’t know that much about his personal life. You might ask . . .” She hesitated. “Except she’s on vacation.”

            “Who’s that?”

            “Livvy.” She tapped her fingers on the top of her desk. “We don’t actually have a policy against co-workers dating, even though I’m not entirely comfortable with it. But so far it hasn’t been a problem. Anyway, she called in on Monday and said she had to take some vacation days to deal with a family issue.”

            A girlfriend. “Would you be willing to give me her number?”

            Again she hesitated. “I think I’d really rather call her and ask her to get in touch with you. Her name’s Livvy Heinrich. Olivia.”

            Not my first choice, but I gave her a card. “If you don’t hear from her in a day or so, will you call me?”

            “Of course.” She put the card next to her phone.

            I stood up. “Would it be okay if I talked to some of your employees?”

            She thought for a moment, then gave another shrug. “I suppose so. As long as you don’t take too much of their time. We’re pretty busy around here, especially with two people out.”

            “Sure. I’ll be in and out before you know it. Thank you.”

            She turned to her computer. “I hope you find Dan. Soon. Tell him we need

him for the O’Reilly account.”

            So I wandered the cubicles. I didn’t interrupt anyone on the phone, or even any employee staring hard at a screen. But a few were open and willing to talk. Everyone liked Dan Jarvis, but he kept to himself most of the time, doing his job and going home. Oh, he showed up at the bar after work often enough, and brought doughnuts to the office at least once every few weeks. But no one seemed to know much about him outside of work.

            Eventually I found myself at a cubicle with nameplate: Dan Jarvis. I looked around, then quickly planted myself in his chair and started quietly opening drawers. I wouldn’t be a private detective if I didn’t invade someone’s privacy at least once in a while, right?

            Finding a bag full of gold would have been nice. Instead I found file folders stuffed with documents I couldn’t understand, a box of peanut butter granola bars, a sweater, and a half-empty pint of vodka.

            “Hi there.”

            I jerked up. A slender blond woman was peeking over the top of the cubicle.

“Hi.” I shoved the bottom drawer shut. “This isn’t what it looks like. I’m just, uh—”

            “You’re the private detective who’s going around asking about Dan.” She flipped her hair back and grinned. “You’re snooping.”

            “Caught.” I stood up. “I’ll leave. Unless you can tell me something about Dan. Anything. Or about his friend, Livvy?”

            She laughed. “I could tell you lots. But not here.” She looked back and forth. “There’s a bar down the street. Marco’s? Meet me there at 6:30. Maybe 7:00.”

            I looked at my watch. 4:30. A long time to wait. But if she had any information—“Your name?”
            “Oh, I’m Cory.” She winked. “See you!”

Dragon's Gold, Pt. Two

Two or three hours to kill. I debated going back home, but I’d just have to make my way back downtown in rush hour traffic. So I moved the Honda to a parking garage tried to find a signal for my laptop.

            A search for Daniel Jarvis turned up nothing. But a new search for Livvy— Olivia Heinrich. That turned up some unwelcome news.

            She was dead.

            I zeroed in on the story. Olivia Heinrich, 26, had been walking home from her car to her apartment on the west side early in the morning when something had attacked her. Maybe a dog, or a coyote—sometimes they wandered into the city. Whatever. She’d been mauled to death, dying from blood loss and severe trauma on the sidewalk outside her apartment building.

Just this morning. So maybe nobody at the company knew.

            I had a CPD detective on speed dial. She wouldn’t be happy to hear from me, but . . .

            “Dudovich. What the hell, Jurgen? I’ve got enough to deal with without another horror story. Homicides are up, in case you haven’t heard.”

            “President Trump will take care of that in a week, remember? And then you’ll be out of a job. So in the meantime, what can you tell me about the Olivia Heinrich murder?”

            Elena Dudovich was a cop. A good one, honest and tough. She sort of hated me, because I told her stories she couldn’t always ignore, and then she was stuck twisting them into reports her superiors would accept. Vampires? Serial killers with a taste for blood. Demons? People gone crazy. Monsters terrorizing a strip joint? Hallucinations caused by bad booze.

            But she’d a few things she couldn’t just write off. So sometimes she listened to me. “I swear to God, Jurgen, if this is another imaginary monster . . . wait, Heinrich? That one isn’t even classified as a homicide. Just an unexplained death. What the hell is this?”

            “Just tell me what killed her. Or can you do that without getting permission from City Hall?”

            “Screw you. I can’t send you the pictures, but they ain’t pretty. Have you had lunch yet? I haven’t and it’s almost five o’clock. It was last night, around 12:30 or 1:00. She was—I don’t know. The first officer who found her said she looked like a crocodile attacked her. Of course, he’s from Florida. There aren’t any crocodiles in the sewers here.” She paused. “Are there?”

            “It’s a dragon.” Dudovich wouldn’t believe me, but I had to tell her. “There’s a dragon loose in the city. I don’t know where it’s hiding, but he’s hunting stolen gold. I’ll try to take care of it, but you should tell everybody—”

            “What the hell?” It should have been a shout, but Dudovich kept her voice close to a whisper. “Every time I think you can’t surprise me with some new bullshit, you manage to raise it to a new level of insanity. What the hell would I tell anyone? Look out for a dinosaur coming out of every alley? You really think I can put this out there?”

            I rubbed my eyes. “No. Of course not. I just thought I should warn somebody. I don’t know what’s going to stop this thing—shotguns, maybe hand grenades. I’ve got Rachel looking into it—”

            “Good, because I trust her a lot more than you. Maybe it’s a girl thing.” Dudovich groaned softly. “Damn it. Hughes is coming over. Got to go. Call me, or—on the other hand, don’t call me. All right?” She hung up.

            Great. I looked at my phone, thought about calling Rachel just to hear her voice, even if she yelled at me, and decided what I really needed was a beer.

            So I headed to Marco’s. Cory might not be there for an hour, or even longer, but I could nurse a beer for that long. The w-fi was good. I read everything I could find on the internet about dragons.

            Smaug, from The Hobbit. Pete’s Dragon, from the Disney cartoon. The Jabberwock. The dragons of Pern. Godzilla. The Komodo dragons. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal, the dragons hatched by Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones. Okay, I admit I checked out a few hot pictures of Emilia Clarke on that one. I’m a guy.

            None of this was helping me find Daniel Jarvis, Leo’s gold, or Ramathor. I was just killing time until—

            “You.” Cory’s face was pale. She dropped a small backpack on the floor and slid into a chair. “Livvy is dead.”

            “I just found out.” I waved for a waiter.

            “Is it about Dan? He didn’t . . .” She ordered a vodka with orange juice. “He wouldn’t do something like that.”

            “He didn’t kill her.” I didn’t want to start talking about dragons just now. “What did they tell you?”

            “It was on the internet. Sheila called a meeting, then she sent everyone home. I guess a cop called her.” Cory blinked, looking out the window. “She said they might want to talk to all of us.”

            “They usually do.” I finished my beer and ordered another when the vodka came. “So what can you tell me about Dan? He and Livvy were dating?”

            Cory giggled. Then she gulped her vodka. “Sorry. I just—I shouldn’t laugh. I like Livvy. She’s funny and smart, and we work together a lot. But . . . well, she wasn’t the only one.”

            “Dan and . . . other women?”

            “Well, hey, he wasn’t married or anything.” She twirled a strand of blond hair around a finger. “It wasn’t anything serious. He was a lot more open about Livvy, and that was okay. But he still wanted to hook up. And that was okay, too.” She turned her eyes on me, daring me to judge her.

            My beer came, and Cory immediately ordered another screwdriver.

            “An expense account is a wonderful thing.” I reminded myself to get a receipt. “So I don’t care who was having sex in your office. I’m just trying to track down Dan Jarvis. When was the last time you saw him, or talked to him?”

            “Last week. Thursday. My place.” She sat back with a sigh. “Long night. When he was getting up to go, he gave me this.”

            Cory unzipped a pocket in her backpack. “This. He said it was a present.”

            She dropped a gold Krugerrand on the table between our drinks.

            Oh god. I looked out the window, in case the dragon was coming up through the sidewalk. “Do you know—could Dan have given one of these to Livvy?”

            Her laugh was bitter. “I think he was dropping them in front of homeless people. He said he had to get rid of them. He was going out of town to trade them in for cash. I don’t know how much he had, or how he was going to get them out of the country, but—” Then she saw the terror in my eyes. “What?”

            I downed half my beer and reached out for the coin. “You have to give this to me. It could be dangerous. It might be . . .” Dangerous for who? “It could be why Livvy was killed.”

            “Okay!” Cory leaned back, hands high. Her chair knocked against a couple of guys drinking beers behind her. “Sorry! Uh, yeah, take the thing.” She sipped her vodka. “Wait a minute. That’s worth a lot of money, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you give me a receipt or something for it?”

            I was worried about dragons. She was thinking about money. But she had a legitimate point. “Honestly, I probably don’t have enough money in my checking account to reimburse you. You’d have to sue me, and I might have to sue my client, and it would be a whole mess. But here . . .” I kept a receipt book in the pocket of my jacket. “Let me give you this—”

            “Oh, forget it.” Cory finished her drink. “I just thought—I don’t know. I hope Dan’s all right.”

            She stood up, somewhat unsteady on her legs. “I’m going home. Thanks for the drinks.”

            “Thanks for your help.” I slipped the gold coin into my back pocket and signaled for the waiter.

Rachel was sitting at the dining room table back at my apartment, peering at her laptop. “I found a dragon hunter.”

            “So that’s a thing?”” I dropped my briefcase on the sofa. “Do we have any Doritos?”

            “What am I, your waitress?” She stood up and stretched. Rachel has red hair and hazelnut eyes, and she was wearing jeans and a “Chicago Cubs win the World Series” T-shirt. “I could use a beer, I guess.”

            “Just water.” I pulled out a chair and sat, trying to think. Rachel brought out a bag of chips, a Heineken, and a bottle of water for me. “So what do we know about dragons?” I crossed my arms, mostly to keep them from shaking with fear. “Aside from the obvious.”

            Rachel stretched her arms. “They were probably cross-bred from the last of the dinosaurs, by sorcerers trying to protect their gold. That’s one legend. Or explorers in African saw huge crocodiles and other animals and their stories got exaggerated over time. Or they existed, but most of them died out thousands of years ago, except a few went into hibernation. The Nazis might have woken some up to protect the gold they looted during World War II. Or they started out in Asia, made their way to Europe but couldn’t handle the climate, so they—”

            I held up a hand. “All right. Sorry I asked. What about this dragon hunter?”

            “He’s in California. We can Skype with him, but he’s going to charge you $100 for a consultation, and a crap-ton more if you actually want him to come out here.” She opened her laptop and her cell phone. “There’s a woman in Wisconsin, and she only charges $50 for a phone call. I’m not sure if she does house calls.”

            “Let me call my client.” I hit the number on my phone.

            “Leo’s asleep.” Marie Jarvis’ voice was a quiet whisper.

            “Okay.” I sighed. “I think the dragon has already killed one person—Daniel’s girlfriend. He gave her one of the krugerrands. He may be trying to convert them into cash. What kind of box were they stored in?”

            “A big—a metal container. With handles. It was heavy. I couldn’t lift it. I tried once.” She gasped. “Wait—Ramathor killed someone?”

            “Yeah.” Calling the dragon by a name sounded—weird. “It was a woman Daniel was dating at work.” I gulped some water.

            “Oh my god.” Marie swallowed. I’m so—I’m so sorry. I can’t . . . Leo said he slept all the time. I didn’t even think . . . Oh my god.”

            I waited. But I couldn’t wait for long. “I’m sorry, I have to ask a question.”

            “Go—go ahead.” She blew her nose.

            “Right now I’m a little more concerned with finding the dragon and, uh, dealing with it before it kills anyone else? Than I am with recovering your husband’s gold.”

            “Of course.” She was whispering again.

            “How would Daniel have gotten the gold out without waking it? I mean, if it’s job was to guard the gold . . .”

            “Leo has—some kind of a sleeping potion. So he could go down and take some out, and put more in, safe and sound. Of course, he doesn’t go down there much anymore. And I don’t go down at all.”

            I understood. “That’s good to know. I may need some of that.”

            “I’ll . . .” She hesitated. “I’ll have to talk to Leo about that.”

            “I’ll be in touch.”

            “Wait! What about Daniel?”

            Now I hesitated. “I don’t know. If he’s got the gold . . .”

            “You—oh god. You have to find him before the dragon does.” Her voice was urgent. “He’s the only family Leo has left.”

            I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I’ll do my best.”

            We hung up. I looked at Rachel. “Set it up with the California guy.”

So a half hour later we were on Skype with Desmond Hacker, dragon hunter.

            I expected a big man with in a leather vest with a beard and maybe a necklace of dragon teeth. Instead I saw a pudgy white guy in a black T-shirt. “So you’ve got a dragon?” He smiled. “What species is it?”

            Species I didn’t have a field guide to dragons. “His name’s Ramathor. Six legs, about fifteen feet long. No wings. No idea how old it is, but it was brought here from Eastern Europe before World War Two. It’s been guarding my client’s collection of gold for years, and now it’s out because the gold was stolen. So how do I find? And what do I do about it?”

            “Huh.” Hacker tapped some keys on his laptop, and a small drawing came up in a corner of the screen. “Is this what it looks like?”

            I didn’t bother magnifying the image. “I haven’t actually seen it. I know it’s killed at least one person. What do I do?”

            He folded his arms, as if in deep thought. “It’s probably hiding in the sewers or the storm drains. You need to lure it out somehow.”

            Gee, thanks. “I have a piece of the gold it’s looking for. How do I—”

            “What?” Rachel slugged my arm. “Where?”

            “Ow! I left it outside.” I’d put it inside a plastic bag and shoved it into the dirt next a fire hydrant down the street, hoping that dog pee would keep both the dragon and humans from finding it right away. And then I cleaned my hands with five disinfectant wipes from my car before coming back to the building.

            Hacker leaned forward to peer at Rachel. “Hi there. Who is that?”

            “I’m Rachel. Tom’s worst nightmare.” She smiled. “And maybe yours. How much is this consultation costing again?”

            “Wait a minute.” I waved a hand before everything spiraled out of control. “So what’s a safe way to lure it out? And how do I kill it?”

            Hacker chuckled. “There’s no safe way to deal with dragons. Killing them? Well . . .” He lifted a long spear. “This works if you hit the right spot. Do you have a sword? You can cut off its head if you want to get close enough. Or—”

            “I do have a sword, actually.” A Japanese army sword that my father had given me. It had killed, or at least wounded, an ancient vampire called a lamia, but I wasn’t the one wielding it. I wasn’t sure I could swing it hard enough to cut anything more than a slice of cheese, especially while gasping with terror. “What’s the right spot?”

            “Usually in the middle of its chest.” Hacker tapped his T-shirt, just above his belly. “Right here. But you have to hit hard and deep. Now I can come out there tomorrow, or the day after—”

            “I’ll think about it. Thanks for your help.” I closed the laptop. Now what?

“Asshole.” Rachel stood up. “He looked like a muscular, dragon-fighting warrior in the pictures on his website. I guess they can do a lot with Photoshop these days.”

            “Yeah.” I sipped my water. “Goddamn it. Mom was right. I should have been an accountant.”

            Rachel snorted. “Right. You can’t pay your own bills on time.”

            “So that means I have to go fight a dragon?” I stared at the table. “There should be some middle ground.”

My phone buzzed. Damn it. Rachel got up and went into the kitchen as I answered. “Tom Jurgen speaking—”

            “Hey! It’s me. Cory.” She sounded hoarse. “I just heard from Dan.”

            I sat forward. “Where is he?”

            “I don’t know. But he sounded scared. He wanted to know about the gold coin he gave me.”

            I grabbed my water. “I’ve got it. It’s hidden. You should be safe.”

            “But—oh shit. I’ve got a bunch more. He gave them to me to keep until he could get back from, I don’t know, wherever he went to change them. But he sounded like he was crazy. I don’t know what’s going on!”

            Oh god. “Get rid of them. Right now. Throw them out the window, down the garbage chute, whatever. Just don’t keep them in your apartment. Where are you?”

            She gave me an address. I could be there in—well, twenty minutes, but I had to make a stop first. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. Call me if Dan calls back.”

            “What is it?” Rachel came back with and the bottle of whiskey I keep for special occasions. Like New Year’s or when I really want to get drunk. I wanted a drink or six, but it looked like I was going dragon hunting, like it not.

“More gold. In this girl’s apartment. I hope she’s dumping it right now.” I stood up. “I’m going to need the sword.”

            She put her hands on her hips. “First things first—what girl?”

            I groaned. “I’ll explain on the way.”

            “I’ll get the sword. I’m coming with you.”

            I nodded. No point in having this argument again. “Of course.”

            She headed to my bedroom. “This doesn’t make me the sidekick, by the way!”

            I took a quick drink of whiskey. It burned. Like a dragon’s breath. “Of course.”