The Dragon's Daughter

Chapter 8

Saturday 11:15 a.m.

WARNING: Animal (fish) death.

I pulled into my driveway, put Baby in park, and huffed a deep sigh. Normally, the sight of home brought me peace. The large azalea bushes were blooming beneath my window, and so were the clusters of pampas grass along our drive, their fluffy white stalks swaying gently in the breeze. Everything about the scene said, "safety, love, home."

At this exact moment, though, I was regretting so much. Hector and Jess had been sniping at each other off and on the rest of the drive. Over the radio station. Over whether his window should be down or up. She didn't want the noise. He said he wanted all the noise. I didn't want to get involved. It was, after all, her dumb idea we "supervise" his stupid ass.

Technically, she was correct in the morality of the whole thing, but still. I didn't want Hector in my peaceful home. And not only did I have to bring Hector into my oasis, I had to drag him inside to explain to my dad that... well, that the world had gone to hell since I'd left this morning, and I'd brought home a mind reader in need.

This was not a conversation I ever thought I'd be having. How exactly did one start this? I felt exhausted, and my shoulders slumped.

"Don't worry, princess. I'll just tell Daddy Dearest the story." Hector's voice was full of his usual sneer, and he flung open his car door like he was going to march in and tell my dad Lord knew what.

"Oh. No, you do not!" I opened my own door, jumping out and shut it roughly. I wasn't about to have him open his nasty mouth and give some awful version of events. "You just be quiet, Hector!" I glared at him across the hood of my car and spat the words with every ounce of venom I possessed so he'd know how serious I was, "and you get yourself under control too, you hear me?" I pointed my finger at him, and it dawned on me I probably looked and sounded like my mother. I dropped my hand, feeling slightly foolish but then a little emboldened when I saw Hector only nodding at me. At least he kept any "mom" comments to himself. So, there was that.

The door was never locked during the day, so I threw it open, tossed my keys on the console table, and called out for my dad. I didn't make it far before I felt something off. And it was in the air.

It was hot.

Mom always insisted we keep the air at a temperature near arctic levels, and to my surprise, it was significantly warm inside. And humid. Like the outdoors had been allowed to encroach on her temperature-controlled oasis. My pace slowed as I crept down the hall.

"Dad?" My bellow from before was less sure. It was met by silence again.

"Daddy?" I repeated, worry in my voice. This wasn't funny. Not one bit.

My heart dropped to my stomach the moment I reached the end of the long hall and peeked into our living room.

Pure carnage and chaos spread before me. The carnage mostly in the form of fish. Our large saltwater aquarium had shattered, and water, fish, and colorful blue and white gravel were scattered all around the carpet, couch, and loveseat. Our Damsel fish gaped up at me from below the coffee table. A piece of glass was piercing just below his dorsal fin, standing up viciously, like a tiny, transparent knife. None of the fish were moving, their scales bright, their eyes dull. My favorite yellow tang seemed to be pointing her nose at the patio door, which was also shattered, contributing to the copious amount of glass and explaining how it got so all-fired hot. The A/C was escaping to the backyard through our busted door. There was blood on one of the jagged door pieces like someone had run through the opening in desperation to escape. There wasn't much blood... just a coating like red glaze on the point and edges, but looking at it in the light, a gust of muggy air hit me, and I couldn't catch my breath.