The Dragon's Horde Page 3

  I must be lost in my self-pitying thoughts because by the time I snap out of it, Mika has shelved all the books that she took from me. There weren't that many, but thankfully many of the books in that pile were either Gothic or New Adult fiction. Mika’s favourites are the New Adult Fiction with the extra steamy bits. She’s a very expressive tigress. Let’s just say that. She spends a lot of shelving time back there.

  I’m sitting behind the counter when she comes back, slightly out of breath but she has a big smile on her face.

  “So… I was thinking...”

  “Wait... So you haven’t come in just to drink my tea and read the dirty books in the back?”

  Mika’s face goes red for a beat, and then recedes again. Her eyes leave mine as she wrings her hands together. For a tiger shifter, she’s pretty nervous about her interests, however, she sure as hell doesn’t care about nudity and sex. Maybe it because she shifts so regularly that she’s normally nude, rather than clothed.

  “Well, I mean, of course, I've come to see you!”

  I roll my eyes at her from behind the till, waiting for the rest of the sentence.

  “And to drink your tea and read the dirty books in the back”.

  Aha, there it is.. She loooves the dirty books. Doesn’t try to deny it either.

  “Yes, that too, but.. There’s some news… have you heard of the four men that have turned up at the hotel overnight?”

  Visitors? I doubt I could call them tourists. We’re three months out of the tourist season, and we don’t ever have tourists in the ‘winter’ season. Our town is overridden with tourists during the summer months. They come from all over to try to find the “dragon’s gold”. It’s a legend that the village has prided itself on for years. Here, you can go down to the lake and pan for gold, as well as joining in with the many mini excavation sites and dig up dinosaur bones. It’s a very cute sentiment and it’s great for the tourists.

  I like the summer months because the parents all come into the book store and take all the covers off of my shelves. A lot of the mothers come in and subtly make their way to the back to go to the dirty books.

  Thank god the covers are discreet.

  “Sorry, did you say we have four male visitors?” I swing my eyes round to meet hers. “Uh, yeah.. Four male visitors, extremely interested in searching for the Dragon’s gold. You know, that stupid myth that the town thrives on yadda yadda yadda”. She mock yawns at me.

  “Really.. Are they old?” I sigh at her. There goes any business for me if they’re old panning-for-gold fogies.

  “Actually no. If I would guess, I’d say that they’re between twenty and thirty. The oldest one looks about thirty four.”

  Young male visitors? Colour me intrigued.

  “What do they look like?” I’ve moved my focus to yesterday’s taking in the till. I’m attempting to feign nonchalance at the topic, and Mika knows it. From my peripheral, I can see her cat-like smile that quirks up the corner of her lips. She’s got me in the palm of her hand. She knows I’m intrigued, and she’s gonna drag this conversation out for hours.

  “What do you mean, what do they look like?”

  Here we go..

  “You know, brown hair, blonde hair...”

  “Actually, I didn’t see them.”

  That bitch.

  “What do you mean you haven’t seen them.. Y-you mentioned it!”

  I’m shouting back at her because she’s somehow disappeared and a stack of my books has disappeared also. I bet she’s reshelving them for me. An undiscovered angel that one is.

  “Of course I mentioned it, Ariane and Zachariah told me about them.” I can hear her stomping off towards the Historical and Fantasy section, which pays homage to the town legend. I’m surprised she’s picked those books to shelf. Maybe she’s avoiding the topic.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s actively avoiding the topic.

  I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding the topic.

  “I know A and Z own the hotel, but I’m not surprised they spread that fact around like an Australian wildfire.”

  “Of course they’re gonna tell everyone,” She shouts back, “They own the Hotel du Vin”. Mika saunters back in from the History section, grabs another stack of books, and takes them back towards the Young Adult section. “It shouldn’t make them nosy busy bodies though.” I’m looking at the sales from the last week. And I’m up seven percent. That’s not too bad. Now what was the best selling genre..

  “They’re not busy bodies!” I hear the snap in her tone and I sigh along with her outburst. “The only thing you can accuse them of being is a Succubus and Incubus”.

  Well, she’s not wrong.

  Zachariah and Ariane are twins, miraculously. They’re also a Succubus and an Incubus. Demons who thrive on sexual acts. It’s literally the thing that keeps them alive. It’s a good thing they own a hotel, because at least they can stand outside the doors at night and feed of the residual sexual energy. That’s a bit stalker-ish. Peeping sex demons. “They’re the town gossip and you know it!” She scoffs back at me, and quickly retorts, “They’re only telling us information that we would find out on our own anyway!”

  Also true.

  “Okay, I’m not gonna win this argument with you.” History was the most popular genre of book in this store. Hm. Not surprising. “Do you know how long they’re staying for?”

  Mika’s finished the shelving of all the books. She’s definitely my favourite tiger this week. I’m not gonna lie, she’s my favourite tiger every week. I’m not gonna tell her that though.

  “Apparently, according to Zachariah, they have booked for an “indeterminate amount of time’.” Indeterminate amount of time?! I’m having an argument with my own mind, and Mika’s standing in front of me like a lost puppy. Why does she look like a puppy? A lost tiger then. I lean over the counter to look behind her, and then I look up at her face. She’s pulling the freaking puppy eyes at me! Cub eyes!

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I swear Mika is at least twenty-three, but she acts like an eight year old some times. She’s scuffing the toe of her New Rocks on the floor, avoiding my eyes now that I’ve confronted her. “Well? Mika? What is it?” I think Mika’s having a life crisis. Early life crisis. She’s definitely eight year old Mika standing in the middle of my shop right now. I know she has anxiety, but when she falls into the defenceless child mode, I start to get worried.

  I’m looking at her, but she’s avoiding me.

  What is this bloody girl doing?

  Is she ill?

  Does she have money issues?

  Does she need my help?

  Does she think I need help?

  Does she really think I need help?

  What if she thinks I have issues?

  Does she have issues?

  She’s slowly moving her focus towards mine. Here it is, she’s gonna tell me what she needs…

  “Tea and a biscuit?”

  We stand in silence for a moment whilst I have an internal screaming match with myself. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill her. I’ve never been convicted of murder. But I might be today.

  What was your first criminal offence, Miss? First degree murder of a tiger-shifting-bitch.

  Whatever was in my hand, I’ve now dropped, and I’m lunging, not so gracefully, I might add, to catch that pesky little tiger shifter.

  “Tea and a biscuit?!” The screech that leaves my lips rivals that of a banshee’s. “Tea and a bloody biscuit?!”

  My hands are fisted in her clothes and I’m pulling that hideous black hoodie towards me now. I’ve got her in my clutches, she’s not leaving. She’s trying to escape, but for once that hoodie works against her favour. “I thought you were ill! I thought you had financial problems! I thought you had shifter issues!” I pause, then notice her eyeliner, which I realise is slightly wonky. “Well.. you do have asymmetrical eyeliner. That’s definitely a major issue.” That gasp is louder than my shouting, and now she’s flipping
the both of us so that I’m pinned underneath her body whilst laying on the bloody hard wood floor.

  “My eyeliner is bodged?! Are you serious?!” Her eyes change to two different shades of gold, and the almighty roar that comes out from her throat is almost deafening. I guess it’s an intimidation technique. She doesn’t know it doesn’t work on me. But that’s not her focus right now, it’s the damned skew-whiff winged eyeliner. Which is fine, because I’ve never seen Mika run so fast to the bathroom at the back of the store in all my life. Whilst she’s sorting out her first world problem, I’m sprawled on the floor in the front of the store. I’ve decided I’m not getting up, I’m just fine just here on my dark wood flooring.

  I don’t really remember how Mika and I became friends. I remember her clinging onto me like a baby octopus, but that was a few weeks after months of awkward encounters. I moved to Stonehold about seven years ago. I came with a dream, and it was a small dream. I wanted a bookstore and a cottage in the woods. The bookstore came quite quickly; there was an opening, and I snagged it. I’m pretty sure Mika blew into the store on a black cloud of smoke with her weird ways, her bookworm nature and her screamy emo personality. She used to sit in one of the armchairs for hours on end, curled up in a book. It took me a while to warm up to her, but in the end, she was the only individual who accepted my quirks and kinks. I mean, her kinks are not my kinks and vice versa. But I accepted this fiery tiger shifter into my life, and she hasn’t left since. She and her baby octopus ways remain.

  That’s fine by me. The days get awfully lonely when there’s no one to talk too. And you know what? After this revelation about my furry black and orange friend, I’m still laying on the floor in the middle of my shop. I don’t think I’m gonna get up from this position, until Mika comes back, with fixed eyeliner, and stares at me awkwardly. “Uh, Remi?”

  “Hm, yeah?”

  “The shops open...”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Anyone can come in…”

  “Don’t care”

  “People are staring at you through the window”

  “Are they?”

  “Yes”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Mr. Gregori seems really interested in the secretive normie.”

  As I glance up, there is in fact, one Mr. Gregori staring at me through the window. When he notices me, he shakes his hand in a little wave and gives me a small smile. From my lower, upside down position, I give him a wave and a smile back. Mr. Gregori is the weird old bloke, we don’t exactly know what he is either, but he always smells like the ocean and spilled salt. He’s pleasant enough, always comes in and browses the small section of train books. He’s a stereotypical old bloke; likes trains, has a peaky cap. You know, the usual.

  He’s scooting off now, his cane is held limply by his side as he walks down to the cafe at the end of the street. His worn out trench coat billows behind him in the wind, and you can see the edge of his suspenders. Old people look cute in suspenders. Trouser suspenders, I mean. Not garter-belt stocking suspenders.

  Although Mr. Gregori looks cute in suspenders, I’m way too old to be lifting myself up. I’m sure that I don’t look cute sprawled out on the floor. Mika looks at me, and I look back at her. Cue the puppy eyes and pouty lips, because I raise my arms up like a little child who wants to get up off of the floor. I hear the little groan that comes from Mika’s lips as she lifts me up; I’m heavier than I look. I’ve tried incessantly to tell Mika that I’m a massive gym nut, but she’s never seen me go to the gym, so she has a hard time believing it.

  “You’re honestly heavy. It’s not just me,” pushing her sleeves up, the sheen of sweat on her arms is evident. Surely I’m not that heavy. “I told you, it’s the muscle mass.” Muscle mass, my arse.

  I’m ready to open my mouth to further justify my weight when I hear a snort that echoes around the shop. I know that Mika believes my excuse just as much as I do. Not. There’s the slow walking of boots around the front of the shop. A certain little cat is getting anxious. The absence of tea is starting to grate on a certain someone’s nerves. I swear cats are supposed to be addicted to catnip; not tea. This one however? Tea. Tea is life. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s best friends with the Dormouse and the Mad Hatter for christ’s sake. Snorts and muscle mass aside, half of my jobs are done for the day, thanks to the cat, and Mika is readying up for tea and a biscuit. I can still feel those eyes burning into the back of my head at this very moment.

  I look over to confirm if they are in fact, staring straight into my soul. Yes, in fact, they are. Those odd colour eyes are burning straight into the back of my head, imminent on learning all of my dirty and not-so-dirty secrets. I have many, and none I’m willing to share. I’m willing to build a bridge of peace here, so I’m going to offer the only thing I know will soften Mika’s little black heart up.

  “Shall we go to the cafe? It’s noon now, that means that there will probably be fresh victoria sponge cake.”

  Her eyes narrow ever-so slightly.

  “I’ll also pay for said cake.”

  That puts a slow, sly smile on the feline’s face. No one can resist cake. If my ‘muscle mass’ is anything to go by, then the saying is true; stay safe, eat cake.

  Getting to my keys is a feat on its own, because Mika is shoving me towards the front door. I manage to get the keyring onto my forefinger before I’m ripped from the bookstore, and Mika turns the open sign to closed. Mika also shuts the door and locks the bookstore up.

  With a new purpose, Mika hauls me behind her as we walk down the street. The cafe is a five minute walk away and sits at the end of the road. To the locals, it's just the cafe, but to the tourists? It’s the Karma Cafe. It’s run by two middle aged hippies. I can’t remember their names because I’m terrible but the lady makes the best victoria sponge in the village. I don’t care if its five quid a slice. I. Need. It.

  The sign up ahead is looming. Although the sky is a gloomy grey, overcast day, the neon blue sign of the cafe lights up the high street like a beacon of hope. Karma Cafe; there is no menu, you will be served what you deserve. That line always gets the tourists. They walk into that cafe thinking you have no choice. It’s a lie. It gets a kick out of the locals and the owners though. There was a couple once who waited two hours before being served once. It was the talk of the town for months.

  Karma Cafe is Mika and I’s favourite place in the village. The pub is a close second. Very close second. Mika won’t admit that, but I will. But first, cafe. Smells of cake and freshly brewed coffee, clinking of spoons against tea cups and sugar pots assaults my senses as I walk through that cute wooden door. The walls are covered in a barely there yellow wallpaper, and the floors are blue tiled, mismatched cups and saucers litter the shelves and sit idly on the tables. Chatter from patrons fill the air, adding to the calm atmosphere. To us, it’s a home away from home.

  Our table sits there in the corner near the window; unoccupied and inviting. Just like greeting an old friend, we stride over to it as if it’s been years since our last reunion. A plastic menu sits alone in the corner, unused and neglected. Karma cafe doesn’t necessarily need menus during the off season, they’re there out of courtesy for any unsuspecting guests and fellow wanderers. I fall into my seat like it’s the comfiest of sofas on earth, like my body is sore after a long day of work. Mika however, gently perches herself on the edge of her seat, waiting to be served.

  I hear her before I see her. The tell-tale clicking of those cherry red vintage heels on the floor alert my senses before my eyes have the opportunity to glance up at her. There are many busy-bodies, gossips, and overly interested individuals. But Winter happens to be the sanest of individuals that live in this small hokey-poke town. Her eccentric style borders on the vintage and pinup style of the fifties. Everytime I visit here, it feels like I’ve been transported back in time. I’m on the set of Grease with Sandy and Danny.

  “What can I get’cha lovely ladies?” Cherry red lips accompany an aw
ard winning smile. Today she’s wearing a denim blue pencil dress with her hair in the retro rockabilly pin-up style. It completes her whole outfit.

  “Hey Wint!” Mika beams up at her, “Remi said she’s paying for cake, so two slices of victoria sponge, and two teas. I’ll have regular tea, and Remi?”

  “Hm?”

  “What tea do you want?”

  “Any fruit tea will do.” My eyes flick to Winter’s. She smiles at my order of fruit tea. She likes the way it makes the room smell like a forest and an orchard at the same time.

  “Okay girls! I’ll get them right out to you!” As Winter goes to turn, Mika grabs the edge of her skirt and tugs on it slightly. Classic Mika tactic. Winter’s already looking over her shoulder as Mika beckon’s her closer with the curl of her finger. When Mika’s lips hover next to Winter’s ear, I can hear her whisper.

  “Can I get the bigger slice of cake, Wint?” There’s Mika’s smile again, this time it’s accompanied by those wide, mismatched cub eyes. The look of total adoration never leaves her face when she’s around Winter. Maybe there’s some unspoken feelings between them. There’s a wink from Winter, which is a clear yes if I ever saw one, and she saunters back to the front desk, heading towards the back. The cakes are cut into equal slices of the same size. But knowing Winter, she’s gone to cut Mika a fresh slice from an unmarked cake in the back.

  “So.. these four guys…” Her eyes wander up to mine and she smirks. She knows where this is going. She started it.

  “I hope they’re guys if they’re male, Mika.” I hear her scoff.

  “Don’t be so sarcastic Remi. I know you’re interested in the sudden intrusion in our small town.”

  “Am not.”

  “Am too.” A collective sigh comes from both of us.

  “You are interested, don’t lie!” The smirk is back. Bloody smirk. “There was one thing that Zachariah and Ariane mentioned that you might find particularly interesting.”

  “Why would I find it interesting?”