It's been a couple of months now. Jake is still keeping secrets from Rose, from Susan, from the Huntsclan. Rose hasn't forgiven him, but she's speaking to him again, and she gives him ample opportunity to correct what she clearly feels is his mistake. He knows she doesn't understand why he doesn't trust her when she's still actively protecting him. When she's given up so much for him. It hurts her, and he sees that, but he's afraid the truth will hurt her more. The Huntsclan is all she's ever known. She's betraying them by keeping his secret, but she's doing that for him; despite what she gave up, she isn't completely disillusioned when it comes to their principles, not yet.
He doesn't want to be the one to take everything from her.
She doesn't deserve that.
She deserves to have her own chance at life.
She's thrived in the Huntsclan in a way he never has. She's excelled. She's won accolades usually reserved for people twice her age.
She can't afford to falter, and he can't afford to be the reason she falters.
Even…even if he already is.
But as long as the Huntsclan doesn't know she's been compromised, as long as Rose's identity as Huntsgirl is still a secret—
As long as that's true, then she'll be safe even if he isn't.
Still, that part isn't in their control, and they both know it.
The increased surveillance within the magical community has not gone unnoticed, and there is rampant speculation among the initiates about what the American Dragon is looking for. There hasn't been so much as a whisper of a rumour about Rose, which means the dragons are focusing their search on one thing and one thing only. Jake bites his tongue and never offers up the possibly that the American Dragon is looking for a magical creature and not a magical artefact. If they knew, if anyone knew, if anyone suspected—
It's harder to remain calm when he thinks of himself as a creature. Sometimes, catching Rose's eye is the only thing that calms his anger. She'll give him a small smile, a slight nod, or just hold his gaze, because even if she knows he's keeping things from her, she's still supporting him. It makes him feel like he's using her, and it's that more than anything else that so often has had him seconds from dragging her off to talk somewhere in private so that he can tell her everything. He just….
He doesn't know if the truth will change something between them. Or, if it doesn't, if she'll be able to face the rest of the Huntsclan as impassively as she has been able to so far. His emotions are certainly more traitorous than when he'd first discovered the dragon within him. His anger, his fear, his doubt…. He knows they might betray him, and he can't afford to slip up. He has nearly done so too often already.
Dragon scales are the only reason his palms aren't scarred from dragon claws.
The Huntsclan elders have not yet learned the reason for the American Dragon's search, and Jake is thankful for small mercies. They do not need to know in order to react, in order to prepare. The American Dragon has been more active as of late, and she'll become more careless. They are content to wait rather than act early and risk exposure. Jake's sure she's trying to avoid a pattern, that her guardian and her protector would warn her of such a thing, but even he can see that she is falling into it.
And if he can see it, then the Huntsclan is already planning their trap. Jake's training, all of their training, is merely in preparation for a battle. It has become more rigorous as of late, the schedule stricter. They are drilled with repetition until reaction becomes instinct. They are tested at all hours to keep their skills sharp. He would have no time to train with Rose even if he wanted to. It's too risky.
But he is still trusted to do surveillance, to go out into the world and see what whispers he can hear of the magical community.
Every word he brings back is a dagger, sometimes even a death sentence for one creature or another, but he cannot return with nothing, and he dare not return with lies. He cannot afford to be caught out. It is on these missions that he tries to meet with Susan when he can, though their meetings are always brief now. Too brief. He doesn't have the time he wants. She must suspect the truth, that the Huntsclan is preparing for something, but she never asks, not about that.
He wonders what she thinks the days he doesn't meet her, despite their plans. He wonders if she believes him to have been slain, having become too much trouble for his worth, or if she fancies that he is simple taking precautions because it is not safe to sneak out to meet her, or if she believes his allies have been caught and left him with no help. He knows that she believes he has help; she is not fool enough to think a dragon can simply walk away from the Huntsclan on their own.
Still, he also fears that one day, the time between their scheduled meeting and the day he finally has a chance to show up will stretch so long that she will give up and not be there when he arrives. He also fears that her absence might not be her own choice, if their meetings are ever discovered, or that she might be forced to betray him. That she hasn't done so already….
As Jake weaves through the streets of Chinatown on another surveillance mission, he wonders if he can figure out a way to warn Susan about the Huntsclan's plans. He doesn't have details, but he still knows more than she would be able to piece together on her own. Would she believe that the Huntsclan's pet dragon—as she seems to think him—would ever be granted access to such information? He doesn't think so. Information is too valuable. It's rationed. At best, a prisoner allowed to 'escape' would be fed lies so that they could lead the Huntsclan to a more important prize.
No. Saying anything to her would be too risky. It would be too suspicious if the American Dragon knew of any of this. The Huntsclan elders have been too careful; any leak of information would be immediate confirmation that someone in their ranks is a traitor. Jake may as well drive a dagger through his own heart as try to tell the dragons, even if saying something might mean the promise of safety, of sanctuary—at least until they discover that he bears the Mark of the Huntsclan.
The dragons have been subtle in their own search, but in truth, Jake suspects it may be more than that. There are magics, potions and spells and objects of power, which could help to hide their trail. The Huntsclan is full of excellent trackers and even better interrogators. They should have found someone the American Dragon has spoken to, especially considering how much they are hearing as rumours.
In the end, all it means is that it's getting harder and harder to sneak away. Dawdling on surveillance missions is growing more dangerous. They aren't supposed to leave their assigned sectors, and the assignments are private. Blind. They don't know how many scouts are sent out or who (if anyone) is overlapping their territory. It's meant as a means of confirming the information that's brought back.
Of routing out traitors.
The last time he tried to get away to meet Susan, he was caught. He made his excuses, pretending he merely sought the glory of bringing back the coveted information of the American Dragon's whereabouts, but he's not sure his lies were believed. The hiding he received as punishment was expected, as disobeying is worse than initiative when it means you cannot be trusted, but…. He thinks they're still watching him.
And he can't ask Rose for help now.
If he drags her deeper into this, he'll ruin her.
Susan is still refusing to introduce him to the American Dragon, to any of the dragons, but he's realized their connection is closer than he'd first suspected. She isn't simply a human who had once stumbled onto their secret and has been allowed to keep it instead of forced to forget. She has secrets of her own, some deeper connection to the magical world. He hasn't figured out what it is yet, but she knows too much for anything else to be true. He's tried a few Huntsclan tricks designed to draw out various creatures that hide in human skin, and he doesn't think she's noticed, but nothing has had any effect.
He's looking for the next meeting place Susan had named when he finds the shop. It's thoroughly unremarkable, not as well kept as the place across the street, and is utterly devoid of customers. He wouldn't have looked at it twice if he hadn't glanced through the window and caught sight of the dog disappearing into the back room. The familiarity of it is enough to make him hesitate. Its colouring and size are similar, and he's sure it's a Shar-Pei, but that isn't enough proof. Not alone.
The young girl sitting behind the counter looks up from what he suspects is her homework when the chime above the door announces his entrance into the shop. She smiles brightly at him and drops her pencil to the counter, making every show of giving him her full attention. "Hi!" she chirps. "Welcome to Canal Street Electronics. How can I help you?"
All of a sudden, he doesn't need to see the back of the shop to know where he is. He doesn't need to look for subtle signs of magic, doesn't need to draw upon any of his dragon traits to confirm his suspicions.
He knows that voice.
He knows her voice.
He remembers her scream, the way she'd tried to bargain with them, the way she'd begged and threatened and cried. She's the American Dragon. A pint-sized girl who somehow manages to be cheerful despite the world of responsibility resting on her shoulders. Despite the danger she faces every day simply by existing.
There's no reason for her to be hiding her true face right now, not when the dragons have no reason to believe the Huntsclan is active in this area—at least, not more so than any other sector in the city. He's seeing her for who she is. Exactly as she is.
He takes a step backwards, feeling sick.
She's just a kid.
The worry on her face is instantly apparent. "Are you okay, mister?" she asks, hopping down from her stool and approaching him.
His cheeks are wet. He's crying. Why is he crying? He wipes furiously at his eyes, mumbling an apology, but when he looks back at her, she's frozen in place and staring at him with wide eyes.
Her mouth opens, and his ears fill with a familiar scream.
He has just enough time to blink at the makeup smeared on his hand and realize the stinging in his eyes isn't from the tears. In that instant, he knows what must have happened, knows the mistake he's made, and then she grabs her pencil case from its place on the counter, throws it at him, and bolts.
The dog reappears from the back room, carrying something in his mouth, and he drops it with a swear. The vial breaks, thick fumes spilling off its contents as noxious green smoke. Jake immediately starts to feel woozy, the room blurring at the edges. He puts his hand out to steady himself, not sure he can stumble towards the door without doing so, and accidentally pulls something off the shelf. It crashes, and he looks toward it instinctively, even though he knows better than to take his eyes off the enemy.
Black begins to swirl into sight, and he can't seem to blink it away.
Everything sings with a high-pitched hum.
He's on his knees by the time the navy scaled dragon appears. The fierce protector, taking the place of the guardian dog. Jake's not sure he would have noticed the elder dragon's appearance if it weren't for the barked words in a language he can't understand. At least he thinks it's not English; everything is becoming garbled, and it's hard to focus. He can't remember falling.
The door—and the promise of fresh air and a clear head just beyond—is too vast a distance for him to cross. His limbs have none of their usual strength, and it's an effort to keep from collapsing to the floor entirely. Crawling is out of the question. He'd never make it without a distraction, and there is none forthcoming. The other dragon is less affected by these fumes than he—a built up tolerance, perhaps?—and seems content to wait.
Once Jake sees Susan, he no longer knows if he's surrounded by truth or illusion. Why is she here? Shouldn't she be waiting for him at the meeting place?
Who is she to them if they would call her to come now?
"Get him into the back," he hears her say. It sounds like she's underwater. He tries to focus on her face, to read her expression, but he can't make out more than a smear of colour before everything is swallowed by black. "We can't put this off any longer."
