Page 8 of To Fall for a Dragon

He worked on the puzzle that was the mysterious letter for a long time. He wasn’t any closer to solving it, but he understood the author in a much more intimate way now. This letter begged forgiveness for allowing the other man to die and for the writer to have survived.

The author had hoped to follow the recipient to wherever he might have landed, but he accepted that there might have been no other option for him. Hakko’s heart broke at the pain.

Hakko remembered these words. He remembered reading them and wishing he had a way to help this poor human. No one should have to suffer, but Hakko didn’t know how to offer support or what to say, so he'd responded as best he could with his heart.

He was the one who wrote the letter here in the museum.

ChapterFive

Poe hovered near the graveyard, keeping an eye out for a hulking dragon. He had to be stealthy if he wanted to retrieve his possessions. He was tired of having to accept favours, and he hated having to reciprocate the kindness. When he left the inn, he set an origami flower on the bed. He hoped it’d be enough for letting him stay there.

The location of his mausoleum was on the hillside between the museum and the graveyard, and because it was in the line of sight of a big window, anyone peeking out would be able to see him. The mausoleum held his secrets and his most precious items. It was his safe place, his bolt hole, when the world became too much for him. His thoughts were locked in this tiny forgotten building. It was here that Poe had whispered his confession to the trees. He loved his best friend with his heart and soul. Poe had decided that before Jonathan went off to fight for Canada, he would tell him his feelings.

It was also here that his deepest fears and darkest memories were lodged. He'd shared with the old white pines how much he hoped someone would love him back, as he was, not as he used to be.

He wrote everything, at first to Jonathan, but as he delved deep into the nature of his feelings toward Jonathan, he addressed the letters to the stars where he begged for a sign. Throughout the leather-bound book, Poe had scribbled his fantasies and hid them within a forgotten grave. Man, he'd been foolish.

Shaking off the memories, Poe peered at the large building. He was paranoid that someone would spot him and decide to investigate. Once the main lights were off, Poe slithered through the narrow spaces between trees and found himself in front of the granite doors leading to the sanctuary that housed people from his community, his childhood. The last time he was permitted in these hallowed walls as a guest was when Jonathan’s body was returned from Kingston. They let him say his formal goodbyes.

“Of course, you’d come back here.” The calm, smoky, and rich voice shimmered over Poe, making his hair stand on end. His heart leapt in joy despite his wish to be alone. The dragon was going to be a difficult creature to avoid. “Jassa and Lya phoned to tell me you snuck out. You didn’t have to do that. They’re good people.”

“Doesn’t matter. I stayed as long as it was safe and left when I could.” Poe blocked the large exit, hoping Hakko would take the hint. There wasn’t enough room for the large-framed man to be in the space as well. “I don’t answer to any of you.”

Hakko snorted before glancing out at the dark lawn. It was minutes before he faced Poe again. “Why must you be so difficult? I am not going to hurt you or force you to do something against your will.”

“I came here for one reason. I didn’t—I don’t need to make friends or connect with ancestors. Just let me do this, and I’ll be gone,” Poe insisted as he forced himself to keep Hakko’s attention on him. His gentle, knowing eyes. Sometimes Poe wished he could relax and sit with someone like Hakko, who was so kind. But the axe was always going to fall, and if he attempted to find his peace, someone would be there to wrench it out of his grasp.

In his heart, where the letters lived and the fantasies thrived, Poe understood that Hakko was his port in the storm, his shelter from life.

“You’re being bloody frustrating, you know that? Allies are good, and a place to rest your head is better. You can trust me to do what’s right, can’t you?” Hakko tugged on his hair and growled. He stepped aside and waved Poe out. “Come on then. I’ll get you something to drink and then you can do what you must and be on your way.”

“I don’t need a drink.” Poe hesitated. “Thank you.”

“You do. Your veins are prominent under your skin.” Hakko examined Poe with a practiced eye. “I can see the black from the vampirism. You require nourishment. Please?”

“That’s normal. It’s nothing to be concerned about. And definitely not your concern.” Poe danced out of Hakko’s reach. He wasn’t going to discuss his dining habits with a stranger, no matter how handsome or caring they were.

Hakko’s face fell, but he rallied. “I am concerned. If not for you, then my museum and the land. You… I seek your advice. You know this building and it’s past, so you should have inside knowledge. I had a glass case shatter for no reason this morning.”

“Did something fall on it?” Poe asked, curious despite everything.

It was a trap. Poe could sense it. Hakko smiled at Poe before heading toward the building that hosted a multitude of sins. “I could always use another set of eyes. My assistant and I were in different rooms at the time, so maybe there’s a ghost?”

Poe swallowed and scrutinized the looming museum. That place had more than just ghosts. It was the home of the forgotten, the hidden, and the ones who didn’t fit. The housekeeper and her husband hadn't taken care of the residents as they were supposed to. The residents were abused or worked to the bone to pay for their "mistakes." “It's a pretty good chance you have a dozen or so. A priest or a witch can help cleanse the building. More people might be inclined to visit then.”

Hakko wrinkled his nose before gazing at Poe again. “Really? No one has ever said anything to me about ghosts or stuff.”

Poe shrugged. This wasn’t his problem. The letters were his biggest concern. He had to find the opportunity to hightail it away from the magnetic dragon. “Find one and ask.”

He itched to look at the mausoleum where the secret cubby hole was, but Hakko was still too focused on Poe. Today’s attempt was another bust, as Hakko was stuck to him like a burr. Poe growled. He was so close to being able to put this town behind him and yet not close enough.

Hakko chewed his thumbnail absently, humming a restful tune. “I really can’t get you to come in for a drink?”

Poe scrubbed a hand down his face and felt the slight tremble. Hakko’s blood from the previous night had helped stave off most of the hunger pangs, but he wouldn’t ask for another sip again. Not after Hakko had doctored his drink the first time. He couldn’t trust he’d be able to go back to his subsistence living after this. “I need to do other things. My time is short.”

“You're here for a reason. Let me help,” Hakko wheedled. He peered into the gloomy interior, curiosity written all over him. Poe knew danger, that Hakko’s nosiness would get the better of him, and he’d… No, Poe wasn’t going to think like that. Hakko was a good man, he hoped. “What’s in here, anyway? I’ve never seen it open before. It’s always been boarded up.”

Poe shrugged, not answering. He wasn’t going to feed Hakko’s beast. “Good luck with your display. Like I said, find a witch. They can offer a solution for your ghost problem.”

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