Page 45 of Asher

I push back from my desk and stretch. “Sure. Did you need me in the classroom?”

He shakes his head and pushes the door open to reveal Isaac with big, wet, woebegone eyes and a trembling lip. “Isaac and Susannah were jostling each other, and Isaac fell off his chair and hit his head.”

I’m up and around the desk faster than I would have thought possible. Isaac’s already throwing himself into my arms before I can crouch all the way down. “Is he…?” I assume Sid’s already done a concussion check. He has minor healing sorcery ability, enough to deal with scrapes and bruises.

“He’s fine. A bit shaken, and he says he has a headache. I was going to call his parents to collect him, but he said he wanted a hug from his cousin Garrett.”

Aww. Isaac’s been getting attached to me lately—which I put down to my awesome storytelling ability—and I can’t say it makes me mad. He’s a cute tyke. His arms are still wrapped tightly around my neck, face buried against my shoulder, and I really hope the dampness I feel is tears and not snot.

“I’ll take care of it,” I tell Sid. He can sit with me for a little while, and then I’ll either take him home or call his parents myself.

Sid goes back to the classroom, and I stand, lifting Isaac into my arms, and go back to my desk chair. It takes some coaxing to get him to loosen his grip, but finally he’s settled on my lap, leaning the side of his head against my chest. I look down at his little tearstained face. “Do you want some water?”

He lifts those big eyes to me. “Juice?” There’s a pitiful waver in his voice that tugs at my heartstrings.

“Sure, I’ve got juice.” We keep some in case of low blood sugar incidents. “But I need to get up to get it for you.”

Sniffling, he slides off my lap and waits. I hide a smile as I fetch him a juice box, and he immediately climbs back into my lap.

“Better?” I ask as he slurps through the straw.

He nods slightly. “Tell me a story? Please?” The big eyes are aimed at me again, and I don’t even bother to resist.

“Sure. Let’s see… have I told you the one about the dragon who lives in a cave?” I’m sure I haven’t, since I totally just pulled that from my ass. The benefit of discovering that dragons actually exist is that any story I make up with a dragon in it has instant credibility with children. The downside is that I have to be more careful about my descriptions of dragons and their abilities… especially here in Hortplatz, where the kids have no basis for comparison. The last thing I need is for them to meet a dragon one day and grievously offend them because of something I once said.

Isaac thinks about it carefully, his nose wrinkling. “You told me about the dragon who lived at the beach.”

I shake my head solemnly. “No, this is another dragon—one who lives in a cave high up in mountains covered in snow.”

“Like where we live?” I’ve piqued his interest.

“You don’t live in a cave! I’ve seen your bedroom. Definitely not a cave.”

That gets a giggle. “Nooooo, but we live high up in snowy mountains! And there’s lots of caves near here. Micah showed me some last summer.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “Now, this dragon, whose name I can’t remember, so we’ll call him…” I wait. This is something I do with every story, letting the kids—or kid, in this case—name the protagonist.

“Ed!” Isaac declares. “Ed the dragon.”

“Sure. Ed the dragon, it is. Well, Ed was a biiiiig green dragon who lived in anamazingcave. It was big enough to hold him in his dragon form with his wings stretched out.” I spread my arms as wide as I can to demonstrate. “The cave was very comfortable, even though it was all rocky. It kept the snow and wind out, and the inside was nice and warm.”

“Did it have a bathroom?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Of course Asher’s cousin would be a practical five-year-old. “Not a bathroom like you or I use, but a special bathroom that Ed could work with his dragon magic.”

Isaac nods as if that makes perfect sense. “What did Ed’s biped form look like?”

Uhh… “He was not as tall as me,” I begin. Height can be tricky for kids—I can’t just say “six feet” because they rarely have context for that. And since demons are all, as a rule, tall, Sid and Annie have found that some of the kids expect all adults to be like that. They were both asked if they would continue to grow as they got older.

“Was he as tall as me?”

I chuckle. “He was one and a half of you,” I say. “One whole you, and then an extra set of your legs.” That method of description delights Isaac, and he puts down his unfinished juice to pay better attention as I weave the story of Ed the dragon, who lived in his awesome cave with his hoard of videogames and books, but got lonely sometimes and eventually made friends with Billy the snow leopard.

“I’ve never seen a snow leopard,” Isaac informs me when I’ve finished, his voice heavy with doubt.

“No, you wouldn’t have. They live in Asia.” The teacher in me is tempted to ask if he knows where Asia is, and then pull out a map to show him.

He nods sagely. “He must be traveling, then.”

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