The Dragons of the Cuyahoga by S. Andrew Swann

Author:S. Andrew Swann [Swann, S. Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Fantasy, Contemporary, Fantasy Fiction; American
ISBN: 9780756400095
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2001-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

"Where are you taking me?" I asked as we crossed the river on the Main Avenue Bridge, going west. I noticed a few of them, notably the guy with the mustard tie and the guy riding shotgun, watching to our right as we passed the stadium. It was the kind of look that let you separate the tourists from the natives— though the look Colonel Mustard was giving seemed more like a general sizing up an enemy army. The gun he still held on me must have contributed to the impression.

Mr. Brown watched out the opposite window. "We'll be there soon enough, Mr. Maxwell."

"What do you guys want?"

"We want you to be quiet until we get to the safe house," said the man I thought of as Professor Plum— glasses and gray hair made him look slightly bookish.

Safe house?

Over the river, the driver— whom I labeled Mr. White because he was a black guy who bore a passing resemblance to a former mayor of the same name— called back, "We got a critter on our six o'clock, pacing us."

"Fuck it," Colonel Mustard said as he squinted out the back windows of the van. "I don't see a tail."

"Up," said Mr. White.

I followed Colonel Mustard's gaze upward and saw what Mr. White had been talking about.

It was some sort of flying creature, about half man-sized, with leathery wings and a skull-like face. A demonic gargoyle creature that, I now realized, had been following my movements since I'd arrived on the Hope Memorial Bridge. I'd seen it perched on a bridge, on a church while the elves kidnaped me, and I'd caught a glimpse of it on the Cleveland Trust Building. I wondered what my score on the oblivious meter was.

"Can we lose the familiar?" asked Professor Plum

"Sir," said Mr. White, "it flies. I can't lose it in traffic."

There was a pause, then Professor Plum flipped open a cell phone. "This is mobile one. I need a car at," he flipped open a notebook and, after a moment, said, "Rendezvous green-seven, third level. Ten minutes."

He flipped the phone shut without listening for any response. He looked over to Mr. Brown and Colonel Mustard. "I want to know what that thing's following." He looked at me and said, "Have you seen that creature before?"

This is where I get overcome with the self-destructive urge for resistance. "You bastards just kidnapped me off the street, why should I help you?"

Professor Plum smiled. "Mr. Maxwell, you're intelligent— but shall I spell it out for you? You're a fugitive, wanted by the police for questioning for a murder that was most likely committed by people who will have no hesitation in killing you as well. How many friends do you have? How sure are you that the thing following us is one of them?"

"Answer the man," Colonel Mustard said, pressing the gun into my side to make sure I got the point.

Bone Daddy's words echoed in my head, many hands, but no head.

"Yes," I said, finally. "I've seen it before.

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