Page 85 of Just Dare Me
“I only have one more thing to say, Shayne, before you become my boss. Way back at the start of all this business with the East Side horde, I was saying all kinds of shit about how you would be the perfect person to bridge the gap between us and the human world, remember?”
“Oh, how could I forget the time you told me I was too good to be human, but not good enough to be underworld?”
“I know you didn’t like that, which is why I’m standing here now to say…I told you so.”
Nora stifles a surprised laugh, and I’m like, “Oh, hell no, I can’t even.” In fact, I’m so not willing to stand there and take that shit that I march to the middle part in the curtain and step out onto the stage. A packed audience of shocked reporters suddenly stare at me. Cameras everywhere, clicking and flashing and broadcasting to the entire world.
Hillerman had been talking at a podium, but now she stops, looking at me with a weary grin that is not at all surprised. “Aaaand, I guess I’m done,” she says.
Stepping up to her podium, I pull the mic toward my mouth. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I could stay back there another second. Not without punching a certain face, and I don’t mean you, producer lady.” I gesture to our babysitter in her hidden spot offstage. She closes her eyes and massages her temples.
Charlotte reclaims the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce the co-directors of the Federal Underworld Agency’s newly-announced headquarters, to be located right here in Detroit, Michigan, USA. Director Nora Jacobs…” She pauses while Nora steps out from behind the curtain and waves. “And Director Shayne Davies.”
Charlotte leaves the stage, and while I wait for Nora to join me at the podium, I spot my family in the first row of seats. I wave at Mom and Mrs. Cody, sitting together, clutching each other’s hands. Next to them, Nolan and Darby smile up at me.
Nora starts to give her rehearsed opening, but the microphone is too far away to pick her up. I push it closer, her voice suddenly projecting: “—take a few questions, but our time is very limited. I assure you, more comprehensive answers will be forthcoming in the next few weeks. Thank you.”
With that, a greatwhooshfills the crowded banquet hall as every reporter shoots a hand in the air. Nora selects a woman from the middle of the audience. She stands up. “Mackenna Swain, with theCleveland Herald. Can you confirm thatbothof you are members of this so-called ‘underworld’ race?”
So predictable. We were warned this would be one of the first questions, no matter who we picked out of the audience. Falling into our well-rehearsed routine, Nora simply says, “Yes.”
And then I lean into the mic to say my part, designed to deflect any further questions along this track. “You already know I’m what’s called a shifter, my other form being a fox. As for Director Jacobs, we’re not ready to disclose her underworld species just yet.” Then, as Nora is about to choose another reporter, I decide to add something we hadn’t rehearsed. “And just so you know, we consider it rude to go around asking what somebody is. Even if you know for sure that somebody’s underworld, don’t ask what they are, and definitely don’t ask them to show you, unless you want your”—I was going to sayface ripped off, but I quickly rephrase with—“hand slapped.”
Nora chooses another reporter.
“Chris Jarman,Denver Daily News. Director Jacobs, can you at least confirm that you are one of the species currently disclosed to the general public?”
I pull the mic over to my mouth. “Dude, what did I just say?”
“Only three species have been officially announced,” he continues. “Shifters, sorcerers, andnight-dwellers”—he says it while making air quotes with his fingers—“which, quite frankly, sounds to me a lot likevampires.”
“And it sounds to me a lot like you’re asking Nora Jacobs what species she is, to which I already answered ‘Tough titties.’”
Nora pulls the mic back. “Sir, thank you for your question. I can tell you that, no, I am not one of the three disclosed species. As I said, more details will be forthcoming. Next question.” She points to a woman.
“Yasmin Cazares,New York Press. What about this black dragon from all the video footage? Will he or she be stepping forward to reveal their identity?”
I take the mic. “Why does it matter who they are? When the city was in danger, that dragon saved us. That’s all you need to know.”
“You don’t think it’s in the public’s interest to know the identity and whereabouts of mythical creatures like dragons and dogs the size of dinosaurs, possessing the power to level entire cities?”
“This was an extreme case, an extremelyrarecase. We can’t respond by treating all underworlders like criminals.”
The reporter fires back. “And yet, the coyote shifter driving the black mustang did two years in a state prison.”
“Okay, let me give you our official statement on that. Ben Cody was a total psychopath, that’s true. But if it weren’t for that psychopath, I wouldn’t be standing here today. As far as I’m concerned, Ben’s final act of sacrifice is how he’ll be remembered—and honored—by me and my family.” I wink at Mrs. Cody, who wipes tears from her eyes and mouths,Thank you.
Noticing the wildly desperate gesticulations of the producer lady, Nora steals the mic back. “Getting back to the original question, I can add my assurance to what Shayne—er, Director Davies—has said. There is no need to expect, much less fear, a return of the black dragon. Dragon sightings are extremely rare. Even most underworlders go their whole lives without seeing one. I expect none of us will see that dragon again.” After a pause, Nora glances at me with a cocky grin and adds, “Unless, of course, there comes a time when the world needs saving again, in which case I’ll tell you bad guys right now: sucks to be you.”
“Oh, shit!” I blurt, giving Nora a proud fist bump. There’s a smattering of laughter and applause from the audience. The producer lady stomps the floor, then chucks her radio away, uttering streams of silent curses. So much for staying on script. I’m feeling much more comfortable now. “Next question, what else you got?” I call out with a challenging tone. “Yes, you.”
“Mindy Zhou,Daily Post. As directors of this now officially recognized federal agency, what’s on your agenda? What will you do first?”
I clap my hands. “Easy. Our first order of business is to reinstate Detroit as the capital of Michigan. Lansing can suck it!”
A murmur washes through the room, with more laughter and applause, even some whistles of approval. Nora quickly steps between me and the microphone. “That’s a joke, people.”
I lean into her, wagging a finger. “Not a joke.”
