Page 66 of Soar

Oh. Well, fuck, that wasn’t what Salem wanted to hear.

“What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know.”

Figured. If Sora hadn’t known, it wasn’t likely Gregori would magically have the answer. Still, it hadn’t hurt to ask.

The door creaked open again and out bustled two people Salem vaguely recognized as neighbors who lived in the building. He’d bumped into the bodybuilding guy—he was a trainer at a local gym—and the elderly woman with him was Salem’s across-the-hall neighbor, Eleanor. She was a widow who was the opposite of your traditional grandmother figure in everyway. Even now she wore bright rainbow sweatpants, fuzzy Crocs, and an overcoat that could double as a circus tent.

“Salem,” she greeted, almost sprinting to them. “What’s wrong with our Gregori?”

When had Gregori even met the neighbors? He’d ask later. Right now, Salem rolled with it.

“He can’t shift,” Salem explained, trying to keep how upset he was out of his voice. Basically failed. “He’s been away from his clan too long, we think, so his dragon is all out of sorts.”

“Well, hell, that was stupid of both of you.”

Salem winced. Kinda hard to refute that.

Bodybuilder—come on, brain, what was the guy’s name?—cleared his throat. “If his dragon is so homesick, maybe bringing up some home comforts will help? My grandparents saw me this week and brought me some pastila.”

Some whatzit?

Gregori made an intrigued noise in the back of his throat. “I haven’t had pastila in ages.”

“Let me go get you some, then.” Bodybuilder seemed relieved to have thought of something to help and immediately jogged back toward his apartment.

Eleanor put a hand to Gregori’s forehead, then touched Salem’s cheek, and she winced. “Of the two, his temperature is better. You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?”

“A while,” Salem admitted.

“I’ll sit with him. You go get a better coat and something hot to drink, then come back up.”

Honestly, he really had to pee, so it sounded good to him. He checked in with Gregori first. “That okay? I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Go,” Gregori encouraged. “I’m thirsty too.”

“Then I’ll bring something back up for you.”

It was a good sign he wanted to eat and drink. Salem hoped and prayed this was a turning point for them.

He carefully levered up Gregori’s head, pillowing it on his jacket, then darted downstairs. He did a quick bathroom break first, then got his seriously big overcoat—the one where he could be in the bush in Alaska and not feel cold—put it on, grabbed two sports drinks since he didn’t have the patience to heat water first, and ran back up to the roof.

In the five minutes he was gone, more neighbors had arrived. Blankets and pillows had been carted up, along with the promised pastila. Someone had hauled a portable card table up, an extension cord, and was that a coffee maker? Sure was.

At least a dozen people had gathered up here. Half of them Salem didn’t even recognize, but Gregori clearly knew them all, as he comfortably chatted even as he nibbled on the pastila-cake-thing.

It really did relieve Salem to see Gregori inclined up on pillows and eating. It could only get better from here. Surely.

Joe was back as well, and he handed off a mug of steaming coffee to Salem. “Here, drink this, warm up. We’ll help you take it in shifts until he’s in dragon form. You got help coming, he said?”

“Yeah. His clanmates and a renowned mage-doctor.”

“Good, good, all help is good help. I think he’ll feel better once he’s got a fellow dragon by his side.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“If you want, we can sit with him while you take a break?—”

---