They meet in a tea shop on the other side of Chinatown from where he'd confronted her. Nondescript but quietly bustling, providing enough cover to prevent their conversation from being overheard except by magical means. It was his choice this time, and it was a good one. They don't stand out here.
Susan sips her tea, her second cup, as she studies the boy across from her who has yet to touch his first.
He's not as careful as he thinks he is. Susan doesn't know if he takes her for a fool or if he is simply that inexperienced, though she expects better of those raised by the Huntsclan in both cases. She suspects that he may simply be nervous and sloppier than usual for it, hoping she'll assume it's merely the stakes of what he's doing without ever realizing exactly how high those stakes are.
He tries to change his manner, to bear no resemblance to 99, the Huntsclan member she'd interrogated following Haley's capture, but in truth, he fails at that miserably. Susan isn't one to be picked out of a crowd on description alone; she's spent her life trying to blend in and be like everyone else, and without dragon powers of her own, she's quite good at it. Without a photograph or something of the like, he should have never been able to find her.
But he had found her. Her. And now she knows, after so many years, what happened to her first-born.
She knows she shouldn't be so certain, especially when they didn't bury an empty casket. She hasn't even seen his dragon form beyond the barest hints that he truly possesses one. But she can see something of herself in him, something of Jonathan, and she's sure she isn't imagining it. She's sure it's not wishful thinking. She'd doubted herself at first, but not now.
Dragons are not common, and no one seems to know where this one came from.
He's the right age.
And this is what they'd always suspected the Huntsclan does.
She doesn't know the details, of course, but they're not important right now. She knows the most important thing. She doesn't need to see his mark to know that he must have one.
Susan's heart aches. Haley thinks their family is through with secrets, but Susan is still keeping them. She's still keeping this one. She doesn't have a choice. The body she and Jonathan had laid to rest so many years ago wasn't their son, couldn't have been their son, because now….
Now, he's coming to her for help, and she doesn't know if she can trust him. She doesn't dare trust him. She doesn't know her own son.
She agreed to help him as much to remedy that as anything else.
They're careful; they agree upon the date and time of their next meeting spot before parting, and they haven't used the same place twice. It's a measure as much to protect him as to protect her. He may still try to ambush her, to call the Huntsclan down on her, but she isn't a dragon. (He tested her once, bringing along sphinx hair and thinking she wouldn't notice how sickly he looked. It didn't affect her, and he burned it the moment he thought no one was looking.) The Huntsclan might capture her, might torture her, but she'll die before betraying her family. She's ensured as much, thanks to a spell found in one of Fu's books. (She always was good at mixing up potions; she never found it terribly different from cooking.)
She doesn't tell 99 who she is. She never volunteers a last name, and she tries not to show how much he means to her. If he realizes that, he may wonder, may suspect, and she cannot let him know how close she is to the American Dragon. Not when he might still be her enemy, conflicted though he is. She hopes he'll construe any affection as care for him as a dragon, as she might care for any magical creature in trouble. It's safer for her that way. It might even be safer for both of them that way. But it hurts, keeping that from him, just as it hurts to keep it from Jonathan and Haley.
He never offers a name to her, either. She had expected to be given a false one, but she doesn't press the point. She'd rather keep seeing him than lose him altogether. Lose him again.
She picks her words carefully and doesn't allude to how she knows the American Dragon or any of the other ones with which the Huntsclan is familiar. She doesn't let on how much she knows about dragons or about the magical world, and he has no way of knowing how deep her connections run. She is better at shielding her secrets than he is; she's had far more practice.
It's never been just about protecting herself; it's always been about protecting her family.
About protecting them from people like him.
She wonders how many magical creatures he's slain. She wonders how many lives he took—by stealing life or spirit or will—before his own powers began to awaken. Before his magic loosened, became unbound, and forced him to try to straddle two worlds.
He isn't terribly good at it yet. In effect, she's learning as much from him as he is from her. He can't hide his frustration, and it's not always because he can't seem to master a particular element of the rough training schedule she's set up for him. Too often, it's because she won't tell him something or because she plays dumb. She isn't sure if he always believes her ignorance, but he seems to.
He also seems to believe that she thinks him a reluctant captive of the Huntsclan, coerced into trickery to try to trap other dragons in exchange for his eventual freedom. He's told her that he hopes to learn enough to break free of them and not come back but doesn't seem happy whenever she points out that it would serve them well if they could spend as much time if not more studying the Huntsclan and their ways to make that a reality.
Still, a few weeks passed before the strain of walking this path became truly evident, taking its toll in both his appearance and his manner. He's been coming to their meetings with little to no sleep for days, and for the first time, he seems properly wary. She wants to know what's changed, but he won't tell her, waving off her questions with vague answers about increased expectations and changing the subject before she can press him.
She's not sure if the increased expectations come along with increased responsibilities or stricter regulations, nor if they're a result of some sort of promotion or a reaction to the events of the past few weeks. But she can see a bit more of herself in him now, the way he's starting to be worn raw. He's at war with himself, a dragon who bears the mark of the slayers, and he's desperately trying to contain contrasting forces. He's hiding his true nature from the Huntsclan, hiding the rest of his life from her, and trying to come to terms with the fact that he's something he was taught to despise.
He hasn't accepted himself, and everything will come to a head more quickly if he doesn't.
Susan lets the warmth of the teacup seep into her fingers as he gives her his report. That's what it is, even if it's not what she's ever asked for. It's not as succinct as a proper report, she expects. It's not just about his progress, each achievement or stagnation, nor about the careful changes that have been made to his diet—in secret, of course. No, he's taking the time to spin tales about how he got away to meet her this time and warning her that he might not be so lucky in getting away next time, ever so careful to prepare for the possibility when he cannot—or dare not—show up for one of their prearranged meetings.
He can't straddle two worlds forever. He'll have to pick a side eventually and reveal the truth to one of them. She wishes it were an easy choice, that he'd have no trouble forsaking the Huntsclan, but they are all he has known until now. As far as he is concerned, they are his family. Perhaps it seems easier to hate what he is or to see it as something to rise above than to see his dragon self for the gift it truly is.
It makes her want to tell him the truth, to reassure him that he does have family, that he has her, and a father and sister and grandfather and aunts and uncles and cousins beyond that—but she cannot.
She must not.
She wishes she could think his current mission noble, but she suspects it isn't. She suspects he is trying to learn enough to survive and hasn't accepted that it will not be enough, that this cannot last forever. If he has been trying to change the Huntsclan from the inside, he's no better at that than he is at tailing people who have training when it comes to being followed. And if he's been trying to get in and take them down from the inside, well, she's made sure he hasn't made much progress on that front. He doesn't seem as hardened as he first did, when she first spoke to him from the other side of his prison, but he's pretending that he's not the same person, and she's trying not to let him realize what she knows. He's not as closed off and on edge as he once was around her, either, telling her little details, tiny things, that don't tell her very much about him at all, but it's more than she got before. It's a start, so she's allowing herself to hope, but she refuses to let herself trust.
It's disconcerting to think that Huntsgirl must know who he is. Know what he is. It explains her behaviour, though. It explains why she was willing to sacrifice Haley for him, to trade away the most sought-after prize. Susan isn't so naïve as to think it a sign of the Huntsclan softening, but maybe, just maybe, if Huntsgirl makes one exception, she'll make another.
It's not something they can count on, and Susan isn't certain enough of Huntsgirl's motives to say anything of her suspicions to Haley. Perhaps Huntsgirl only wanted to help 99, perhaps she didn't intend to use her gleaned information for anything else, but Susan doesn't think Huntsgirl a fool. She'll put any and all information to good use, and she'll not squander her chances if presented with another opportunity to capture Haley, whatever her current form.
If they hadn't held 99 themselves that night, Huntsgirl might have been perfectly happy to take the American Dragon back to the Huntsclan.
Just as 99 himself might, if Susan gives him the chance.
She can't know for certain yet.
Information is valuable, but so is leverage.
She cannot afford to believe that anything is as innocuous as it appears.
"Please, if I could just meet the American Dragon and explain to her—"
Susan smiles softly. He always makes the same plea, and he must know her response before she gives it. His face is already falling, but she can't change her answer. She can't give in, not yet.
If she trusts her son too soon, she may forfeit her daughter.