Page 9 of Zachary

They both look at me like I’m an idiot.

“It’s not. We don’t get along, but that’s not all on me. Yeah, him being here is inconvenient for me—and that’s not his fault, I know. But he’s so… I mean, this is the opportunity of a fucking lifetime, and he acts like he’s being punished. If he’s allowedto do that, why—” I stop, realizing how whiney and childish I sound.

“Why can’t you? Fuck, Zac.” For the first time since this conversation started, Asher’s sympathy slips. “Ronan started out badly, we all know it. But he’s trying now. We don’t know his story—maybe thisisa punishment for him. Maybe he’s got a million things going on in his life that he wants to get back to, just like you do. It’s not his fault he gets teleport sick. It’s not his fault you’re stuck babysitting him. You don’t have to be his friend, but please, if only so Garrett and Cam stop worrying about it, please be civil to him. We all have so much riding on this project.”

Hello, guilt.

“I’ll be civil,” I promise quietly. They have a point. I’ve been taking my shitty mood out on a lot of people lately, but they’re all family and friends who’ll call me an asshole to my face. Making snide comments to Ronan, who’s a guest here and completely dependent on us—me—that’s not fair.

“Okay,” Micah says. “Let’s leave it here. Even though we know there’s still something else bugging you.”

I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. Why bother? They won’t believe me, and they’ll be right. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Asher stands and begins stacking plates. “We’re here when you are.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Ronan

I wakeup on Sunday morning with a terrifyingly empty day looming ahead of me.

Last night, even though Zac returned me to town earlier than usual, I managed to fill the time with my usual routine: meticulously checking my notes from the day, adding and changing things as needed, uploading them to the project server, and then sending a report to Fabian and Brandt. They’ve both told me they don’t need daily reports, but it makes me feel better to let them know what I’m doing every step along the way, so they can stop me before I make any monumental mistakes.

Though truthfully, I’m not sure either of them even read the reports. Especially Fabian. He and the other expert historians who have access to the server are definitely looking at the photos and notes of each item, though, and adding their own notes as things are either identified or new possibilities are introduced. I’ve been checking those carefully, trying to learn as much as possible about the artefacts from each culture so my future notes can be more comprehensive and useful.

After I’d done that, I went down to the pub for dinner. I make a point of going at least twice a week now, even though I’d rather eat in the privacy of the house I’ve been assigned insteadof sitting alone at the bar. But I don’t want people to think I’m speciesist, so I order a counter meal, talk to Arne when he has time, and make sure to say hello to anyone who looks my way.

A few of them were wary at first, after everything they’d heard about me, but the people I apologized to personally always come over for a chat, and that’s convinced the rest that I’m not that bad. It’s even gotten easier to read their expressions, most of the time, though I think I’m going to need a lot more practice to be good at it. Wil was right to suggest buying everyone a drink. I’ll have to remember that for the future.

Last night, the pub was especially busy, and I managed to loiter for several hours before it seemed as though everyone who was going to talk to me already had. I thought about trying to initiate conversation with someone or maybe seeing if I could join the group playing darts—I’ve only played once, and it was fun—but what if nobody wanted me around?

It was easier to go home and go to bed.

But now I’m awake at my usual early time, and the empty hours stretch terrifyingly ahead. Zac made it very clear yesterday that we wouldn’t be going to the cave today. He made other things perfectly clear, too. Not that it was terribly surprising that he dislikes me—aside from his initial warm greeting, he hasn’t exactly been welcoming—but I didn’t realize his opinion of me was so low that he thought I’d be shirking work on such an important project.

Does he think I don’t know how important history is? It’severything. The truth about the past is the most important thing there is.

I push aside my hurt feelings. Does it matter what one demon thinks?

Yes.

I ignore that voice. The rest of the town no longer hates me… mostly. Maybe later I can go for a walk and smile at some morepeople. Never mind that for the past weeks, I’ve really wanted to see Zac smile at me again the way he did when we met. For that one moment, it felt like sunshine was cutting through the gloom in my head.

Whatever. That’s fanciful nonsense and a waste of my time. It’s obvious that Zac wants weekends off, and so I’m going to need to find some way to fill those days.

Like studying.

I sit up in bed. The room is still dark in the early dawn, but I don’t bother turning on a light. I don’t need to see. I need tothink. There’s so much I don’t know about, even my own species’ history, even though I’ve been trying to learn, desperate to feel more like a real dragon. It’s had to take a backseat to my other work the past few years, my focus mainly on repaying the debt I owe the universe. But with two whole days off every week, maybe I can make headway on that—or on learning about some of the Earth cultures. My understanding of them is very rudimentary, just what’s needed to help other dragons feel like they would be able to make a connection with their new neighbors.

It's ironic that I struggle so hard to make that same connection myself.

But maybe if I knew more… And which species would be better to start with than demons? I’ll be here in Hortplatz for a few months more, at least. Possibly longer if my fears are correct and Brandt plans to make me a permanent liaison to the museum.

Please don’t let him do that.

I push the thought aside. I can worry about it later. For now… leaning across, I grab my phone from the nightstand and squint at the sudden brightness of the screen. If I’m calculating the time difference correctly, it’s just after midnight Saturday night at Here Be Dragons. Fabian might still be up, and he’s the best person to ask for resources to learn about demons.

I don’t want to wake him if he’s sleeping, though, so I send a text message instead.

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