Page 13 of Dragon in Boots

After many years of tracking creatures, he knew that half the time, his successes had come down to plain luck. The other half came from ideas that hit him out of the blue. In short, sometimes not looking for someone was the best way to find them.

Damien sat on the couch and began clicking through the TV channels, searching for something mindless to watch until his subconscious produced possible ways to locate Cimil.

Hold the xylophone. What is that?He turned up the volume on the news report.Mysterious globs falling from the sky in Texas?

Damien could only think of one other occasion in his very long life when he’d heard of such a phenomenon. It was Canada in the early 1900s, and an entire town had reported strange gelatinous rain with an odor so foul it made people sick. No one knew what it was except for the few individuals like himself who’d spent time hunting the responsible creatures. Damien had never been lucky enough to catch one, as he’d been hired to do on occasion, but he had learned a few things.

In short, the potent goop was likened to a mating call, meant to draw females from around the world with a promise of fertilization.If this incident is the same event, then the globs must be…

“Dragon cum,” he muttered to himself.

Dragons were very rare, mystical creatures that had mastered the stealthy art of camouflage. In fact, very little was actually known about the species—how they hid from humans, where they lived, and their life cycle—making them difficult to track. Most of what he’d learned had not come from the misdirected legends found in books or old sailor songs, but from ancient cave drawings in China.

One such drawing depicted a giant winged creature soaring through the clouds, appearing to have a bowel movement on human stick figures below. But Damien had noticed one small detail many scholars overlooked: the dragon had been smiling. Not in a shitting sort of way, but contentedly, like any man might after an orgasmic release.

Though Damien had never completed the job of capturing the dragon for his client, nor had he ever seen one of the beasts with his own eyes, he knew one thing: if any dragons had survived the blast, Cimil would attempt to pair them up.

An army of dragons would be the perfect weapon against humans. Undetectable. Deadly. Hungry. Very big balls.He meant it both literally and metaphorically. Dragons feared nothing. And they had to possess tank-sized testicles to produce all that jizz.

Damien’s eyes narrowed in on the TV as the reporter held up a giant, pumpkin-sized glob in her hands.

Impressive. Must be a big dragon.And it was just the sort of mass ejaculatory event that would attract a serial pervert like Cimil.

“I guess I’m going dragon hunting in Dallas to find Cimil.” On the way to the airport, he would stop at the store to buy wading boots and an umbrella.

“Without us?” chirped a tiny voice.

Damien looked down to find Pet sitting naked inside the glass of scotch resting in his hand.

“Why are you here?” he growled.

“Because Sky went to do reconnaissance for her sister and nephew’s rescue.”

“And?” he prompted.

“Andshe says she hates your sexy guts, but you were right. SBP knew that Sky was trying to take them down. They knew everything about her plans. But more importantly, we figured out why they took Miguel and Amelia.”

CHAPTER SIX

Jac’s alarm pried her from a deep sleep at five a.m., and like most mornings, she made a pot of piping hot black coffee, too hot for most humans to endure. The pot went into her XL thermal cup, and off she went to the enclosures to check on the most fragile animals first.

When she began working here, there were around two hundred mammals and three dozen fish and reptiles under the sanctuary’s care. Now there were over double that, with many of the animals requiring special habitats, diets, and medications, though not all were sickly. Some creatures were simply unwanted or had nowhere else to go after being confiscated by customs or border control.

Yes, people still tried to smuggle exotic pets into the US, and many succeeded. The ones who were caught had the animals taken away, and when accommodations—a zoo, release into the wild, or a sanctuary closer to their natural habitat—could not be arranged for the critters, there weren’t many choices. The problem was that the sanctuary was over capacity, and the calls kept coming.

Recently, she’d had to start turning animals away, which broke her heart. She knew what would become of them: gourmet dog treats.Zebra nuggets, anyone?

Jac made the rounds and then shored up the list of chores for the day. At nine, her helpers would come in. Most were veterinary students doing internships—yay, free labor—and some just volunteered because they loved animals and had the time, like Bernard. He’d been with the sanctuary almost since the beginning and had actually trained her when she started out. Without people like him, this place would fall apart.

With a tour group coming in at noon, Jac decided to check on Heebie in her cottage, located at the back of the ten-acre property just outside Dallas.

Jac stepped up on the whitewashed porch, sat on her big wooden bench, and pulled off her rubber boots before entering her cozy living room. Inside, the cottage was strewn with colorful knickknacks and keepsakes she’d collected over the years—figurines of the animals people had gifted her, a handwoven purple blanket that Salome (the prior sanctuary owner) had made, and a wall of photos of the various animal guests that had blessed the sanctuary with their majestic presence over the years. Most of the other stuff was leftovers from her apartment with Stanley, which had come from thrift stores. Nothing matched, not even her half-white, half-mint green kitchen cupboards she still needed to finish painting, but it was home.

“Heebie! Here, kitty. I’m back and have some yummy treats for you.” She pulled a piece of dried fish from her jeans pocket, which was a favorite snack for the piranha.

She went room to room, unable to find Heebie anywhere. Not under her bed, behind the couch, or inside any closets. He wasn’t in the kitchen either, and his little bowl of kibble was untouched.

“Where are you?” She huffed worriedly. Had he escaped out the door this morning when she left? Cats were sneaky.

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