“Perfect?” This comes from one of the strawberry-haired brothers. “Dude, I don’t know who you are or where you come from, but my little sister is not perfect.”
“How so?” I ask. “Please.” I look at all of them. “Explain this to me. How is she not perfect? Just look at her!”
We all turn our attention to a gagged, thus quietly sobbing Madeline. Her face is streaked with dirty tears, her hair all mussed from riding in the back of the truck. And now that I take a good look at her, she’s wearing pajamas. I’m about to admonish them for this when I see something unusual on her arm. “What is that?” I ask, leaning forward in the grip of my captor to get a better look.
Another brother walks up to Madeline, pulls up her sleeve, and all ‘the boys’ gasp.
“What the hell?” one says.
“Is that…” another tries. “Is that… a scale?”
“I knew it!” I exclaim. And if my arms were free, I would be pointing my finger high up in the air like a man proclaiming ‘Eureka!’ “I knew you were my soulmate, dearest Madeline! I knew it!”
She looks horrified, her eyes darting wildly from one man’s judgment to the next. And I just want to soothe her. But Russ Roth shakes me furiously. “See! See! What is that?”
“Is she a reptile?” one of her brothers asks me. He looks to be the youngest. Maybe… fourteen human years. His eyes are softer than the others. And his voice is low.
“No,” I say. “She is not a reptile.”
“She’s a monster!” Russ yells. “A monster just like the others! Look at it! It is a scale! And it’s red and orange. Like hellfire.”
“Huh,” I say. But no one hears me. They are in an uproar over Russ’s accusation. And now I see that something must be done here. They are going to get out of hand and that’s never good. Especially the first time people are confronted with their true monster nature.
I need to take their attention off Madeline and put it somewhere else. So I say, “Russ Roth is a monster too. Didn’t he tell you that? He’s an eros! A love-stealing, swoon-swindling, dirty, filthy eros!”
There is an uproar over this proclamation. A big commotion. And suddenly Russ is dragging me backwards with him, gun pointed at the brothers, and Big Jim, and ‘the boys’, who now have the look of mad pitchfork-holding villagers. “He’s lying! Stay the fuck away from me!”
I always love this part of the stories. When the bad man gets his comeuppance. It’s such a satisfying way to end things.
But we’re not done here just yet. I yell, “You’re all monsters! You’re all eros!” And then I growl, “Or worse.” Because it’s very plain to me that Madeline is not an eros. They do not have ammolite scales on their arms.
Only dragons have those.
I should’ve known.
Well, technically, I think I did know. It was the strawberry hair. Even if I didn’t see her scales, I would know in my heart that dear Madeline was born here, in this time and place, just for me.
Madeline is my Pie.
And this time, the curse will not just change—it will be broken.
Meanwhile, back at Big Jim’s parking lot, the commotion has turned into a pre-riot. Everyone has a gun out, pointing every which way, and Russ Roth is screaming at the top of his lungs for them to stay back.
And that’s when the thundering sound of wingbeats fills the air.
Monsters descend, wings flapping. Mouths open. Teeth bared. Voices shrieking.
And I take a moment to think… ut-oh. This was not in the plan. Well, I didn’t really have a plan. I was just going to snatch Madeline away from this terrible town and take her back to the sanctuary where she belongs, obviously.
But now—
Guns go off. Smoke fills the air. People scream.
And when the dust settles, there are bodies on the ground. Two brothers, four ‘boys’, and…
My heart stops.
My eyes do not blink.