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Chapter 9 - The Dragon

Winter had finally decided to rear its ugly head in San Francisco, and I was having none of it. I disliked the cold with a passion and complained about it just as much. Tin had once asked me why I hated it so.

"You try living in a thin-walled home in London and tell me how much you enjoy winter," I had said with my hands cupped around a steaming mug of coffee. "Give me the sun any day of the week and then tack on two more!"

So you can imagine the looks I got when I came down from our room wearing Tin's heavy jacket. Ethan grinned and Ciel, who was sitting across from his elder brother, quirked a brow.

"That doesn't fit you," Ciel commented as if I didn't know.

"It's warm, shut up," I said with a yawn as I pulled a seat out and sat down. Tin was gone, having left with Bas this morning to get some food supplies from the market. His leaving had made the bed quite cold. I looked at the cats and then at the two wolves who were also at the table, hidden behind their newspapers. Miro and Oro were well-connected in the city's goings-on. Siro told me once that they had to be; it was just good for business.

"Anything interesting happening?" I said in the direction of the wolves, dragging some fruit slices toward myself and popping a slice of apple in my muzzle.

"Mnf," one of them said, flipping the page.

"They've been like that since we came to breakfast." Ethan slid me a warm mug of coffee that he poured. "Barely talking."

"It's nice and quiet for once," Ciel added with his hands holding his mug. He seemed to not like the cold either.

"We're not loud," one of them said. "We're just energetic."

"Is that what it's called?" Ciel rolled his eyes. "The sounds you two make upstairs when you know you should be--"

"Ah, it looks like there was another murder last night!" Ethan quickly chimed in, clearing his throat and fixing his collar on his shirt. "That's...a lot."

"It is." The papers came down almost at once. Oro and Miro were medium-sized wolves with Miro being slightly taller than his brother. They wore their signature colors with Oro in a handsome yellow gold and Miro in a dazzling set of blue. Both silk, of course. That family loved their silk.

"People are saying it's him again," Oro muttered and rested an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. "It's going to make the people around here even more anxious."

"I've never heard of this...dragon. What's going on?"

"There's been a lot of people found dead, hacked to bits, all over the city for a couple months now. Initially it was just a body here and there, people you wouldn't miss, but now people of the upper crust are dying and the city is taking notice."

My blood ran cold.

"Also," Miro said as he looked at me, "the killer hasn't gotten anyone in Chinatown yet, so the finger is being pointed squarely there."

"But...that seems too obvious."

"Doesn't need to be perfect. The moment they can arrest someone and slap them with the crime, the city will feel good again and maybe the killer will move on to another city."

"Okay, but...dragon?"

Oro sighed and shook his head. "They say a dragon comes from the tops of buildings, with shimmering scales and claws, supposed to look like something out of an old drawing. They say it moves in bounds and arcs and is as angry as you would expect a dragon to be."

That gave me pause. That didn't sound like Mordecai -- Spring Heeled Jack was not someone who would be that obvious. Mordecai wanted to scare and terrorize people, not to stand out. Attention was his bane since it prevented him from doing what he wanted to do.

Was it not him? Was it some kind of twisted copycat? I checked the papers on a constant basis since arriving here, but nothing compared to what happened in London or even New York had cropped up. On the contrary, Mordecai kept a rather low profile, only being seen in public a few times. He was wounded at Crossbell Tower, after all, so he may have been healing...but if he was feeling better and he was killing again...

There were huge gaps in the information, pieces I needed but I wasn't sure how to get it. I didn't have a lot of official connections here. Sure, I knew the average person, but that could only carry me so far. A lot of people would much rather just keep their heads down and let it blow over, and I didn't want to get anyone in trouble. It took me a long time to realize that even the practice of looking for information could come back to bite you in the tail.

Ugh, that was the problem with having people I cared about: I had to think about their wellbeing now more than ever. Fiz, Rut, and Tin had all almost died because they were pulled into this orbit of chaos Mordecai and I created. While I know he had no qualms with hurting people and letting them fall to the wayside, I was not so heartless. I couldn't lose someone like I had lost Avery and Bensley.

"It's fueling anti-Oriental sentiment in the city," Oro said somberly. "We need to be careful since we're so close to the district."

"Careful? Why?"

Ciel huffed and shook his head. "You really are dense, aren't you?" Ciel leaned an elbow on the table and spoke up before I could fire off a witty come back. "Think about it, what is this place?"

"A...brothel?"

"Specific, dear. What kind of brothel?"

"An all-male brothel."

"And what does society say about homosexuality?" Ciel said in that annoying parental voice of his, stringing me along like he did when he had a point to make but didn't want to just come out and say it. I growled under my breath and struggled to keep my ears upright.

"I know that they find us, it...the practice...I don't know, society doesn't like it. Religion be damned. What does that have to do with Chinatown?"

"Everything!" Ciel sighed dramatically. "We're close enough that, if the city decides to come down hard on the people there, we're probably going to get caught up in the backlash. It would be like cleaning a window but leaving a smudge on the edge--they couldn't ignore the Arc."

"And we're only ignored now because Siro's friends in the city and Oro's charming personality have influenced several people on the city council and the businessmen who would sorely miss us. But if public sentiment becomes far more combative..." Miro didn't finish his sentence, just waving his hand away as if he was letting a bird go.

I began to understand what they were getting at. "The politicians will have no problem throwing us overboard to save their own hides and power."

"Bingo," Ciel said with a smirk. "So we need to be careful and try to not make waves in the city. Which means that we need to be a bit classier than usual and we need to make sure that, if we are visited by an auditor, this place is spotless from top to bottom."

"Should we bar the Orientals from coming into the Arc?" Oro said.

"No!" I growled and stood up. "They didn't do anything wrong, and they aren't the ones who are doing this. You can't just push them aside too. The whole city is doing it, and the Arc may not be popular, but they know that if they need help they can come in here and get it. Why take that from them?"

Surprisingly, it was Ciel who spoke up. "Simon's right. We can't punish them like everyone else. Things don't change if we keep scurrying away and abandoning people. If anything, people who visit this club should see more of them."

"Exposure," Ethan said with a thought. "That could work. Put a face to the racism and it's much harder to do."

"Mostly," Miro added. "But you're right, we can't do that. It would be insulting to every immigrant in this city."

"Quite," I added with a scowl. Oro's eyes widened and he slid down further in his chair.

"Sorry Simon, I forget... You don't talk like a Brit."

"There's a reason for that, Oro. It was harder for people to take me seriously when I didn't disguise my voice. Hell, even now people still make fun of me when I speak! Calling me royalty or 'His Majesty' like I'm some kind of foppish noble."

"Your last name is King," Miro said with a smile. "But that is true, and Oro is sorry for his suggestion."

Even though I had an apology, it still left me feeling uneasy. I was lucky. I could blend in and not make waves, and I understood enough of the culture that my mere existence wouldn't make people scared of me. But others didn't have that kind of luxury. Ever since I had arrived in America, I was acutely aware of how immigrants were treated.

I was one of them, after all.

I got up from the table and shook my head. "I'm going to go find something to do. You all keep talking about plans..."

I left without starting a fight but I had been so close. Miro and Oro were not stupid people, nor were they racists. But if good people like them could so easily turn their backs on people who did nothing wrong, what did it say about the rest of the city? I understood that protecting the Arc and the people who worked here was their top priority, but that felt like the wrong way to go about it.

I needed to blow off steam.

---

...No, not blow off steam that way!

A week ago I found a gym that was affordable for someone with my income, so I joined it. At first I was hesitant--the idea of doing something besides work for your body felt weird--but Tin told me that I should probably go just to keep busy. It was also good for me.

I forced the tiger to come with me. I knew he was busy, but being the secretly sweet man that he was, he came with me to Brewsters. It was a boxing club with a lot of equipment and a ring to practice in, if I ever felt so bold.

So far, I had not.

At first I felt silly, since I was not a fighter. But Tin said he was going to teach me how to fight, and this was the best place for it. I found the whole act of punching the ever-living crap out of a bag to be quite cathartic.

I was tightly focused on the punching bag in front of me. I was stripped down to just a pair of shorts with my hands wrapped and my fists springing outwards, slamming into the bag again and again and again. One-two combos--one fist up near my head as I had been taught.

Tin was holding the bag steady for me as I punched away, the tiger also down to a pair of shorts that should have been an inch longer than they were. I may have bought him a size too small on purpose. Can you honestly blame me?

Tin peered around the bag as I put my weight into it, huffing and puffing and then leaning forward, rubbing my fist with the palm of my other hand, wincing at the pain. I had done it again.

"You're not paying attention to your body, Simon," Tin said with a frown.

"If you let me wear gloves--"

"In a real fight, you aren't going to be wearing any gloves, so you gotta do it like this. At least you're here with a punching bag; I learned by punching a tree."

"That sounds painful."

"Don't worry, I only did it until I was big enough to punch other kids."

"I'm oddly not comforted by that bit of information, Tin," I said and stood up straight. I was dripping sweat and felt like I was in a sauna. I had been punching away and lost track of time. I was looking at the clock but turned to see Tin staring at me.

Well, more like at my waist.

My shorts had slid down a little bit. I reached down and fixed them, grinning. "At least I know I still have that effect on you."

"This is one situation where you can't use your good looks to get out of a tough spot, Simon," Tin said as he leaned closer to me, bracing his weight on the punching bag. "You're getting better..."

"But?"

"But you're getting angry again," Tin said. "Every time we come to train, you do what I tell you but you let your anger take control. You block everything and everyone out."

"And that's bad?"

"It's bad because you aren't paying attention when you're angry. It's very easy for some asshole to slip up behind you and stick a knife in you. You tunnel vision, it's part of fighting."

"I'm not a fighter!" I growled, stepping closer to the big tiger. "I don't...this isn't what I want to do."

"You think I want to see you training to fight?" Tin growled right back at me, leaning down and staring into my eyes. "You think I can't see this isn't you?"

I didn't know how to respond to that.

"You aren't a violent person, you stupid fox." Tin smoothed his headfur back. "But you need to know how to fight as long as...he is still alive. You need to be at least better trained."

"I know how to use my gun--"

"You left the safety on."

"I didn't know--"

"You'd be dead, you know that? If things had gone just even slightly differently, you'd be dead. Buried in a hole back in New York. Rut and his...twin would also be dead more than likely. Then Renaldo, and anyone else who helped you. Mordecai wouldn't stop until everyone who had ever done something nice for you was snuffed out. So do us all a favor and be attentive. That caracal is already scary enough, seeing him lose his last grip on reality would be...difficult. And I'd miss you," Tin added, coughing into a fist and pretending to examine the punching bag.

I smiled. Tin always knew how to cheer me up in his own ways. It was funny to think that this man used to be a gang leader. He was actually very sensitive when you let him. I think being away from all of that macho-masculine stuff had been good for him. I know, for one, that the brothers in the Arc always flirting with him were doing wonders for his ego, and making him be much more comfortable in his own fur.

Tin had helped me let go of my frustration with the whole thing and took his training with far more focus than before; I was able to listen and not let the anger just drive me to punch the hell out of the bag. I knew I was never going to be as good a fighter as my gangster friends, but I knew how to properly throw a punch and not hurt myself.

I wanted to hug Tin, kiss him, and thank him for being so patient with me. Out of everyone in this whole mess, he had the least reason to follow me to this city, and yet here he was, away from his family, his gang, his home--just because I was here. I knew it was because he felt like he owed me, but I also started to suspect it was more. I felt it, too. Were we becoming closer than just friends?

I was wiping my face off with a towel when, by complete chance, I saw a familiar marble fox walk by the front windows of the gym. It was, of course, Tristan. He looked to be in a hurry but he was also walking the opposite direction of St. Andrews. I looked at the clock on the wall and frowned.

"Odd," I mused aloud. "Tri's supposed to meet me at the church in 15 minutes for a Chinese lesson."

"Maybe he had something to do with work?" Tri said as he draped his towel over his shoulders. "There's probably a message for you at St. Andrews."

"Maybe. Hold on a minute. I'll be right back."

I wiped my chest down and ran outside of the gym still in only those shorts. All at once the chill of the city hit me, cutting right through my damp fur to my hidden flesh and making me shiver. Ignoring the cold, I rushed down the sidewalk after Tri.

"Tristan!" I shouted and almost ran into him. Tri turned around and caught me with both his hands before we impacted one another. He moved so quickly like a muscle reaction. He also looked stunned.

"Simon?" he said, looking me up and down. "What in...what are you wearing?"

"I was boxing," I answered and grinned. "I saw you walk by Brewsters back there. You not going to the church?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't." The marble fox shook his head with a frown. "I have some business matters to take care of. It was last-minute. I left a message for you at the church with Lucas. You can still head over there if you want. I think Mai is looking forward to teaching you how to eat with chopsticks."

I blushed and rubbed the back of my head. "As you would say...an exercise in futility." I studied his face. "You sure you're alright?"

He smiled smoothly and brushed his hands down my arms. "Always, Simon. Just some business stuff. I promise to find some time to squeeze your lessons in. But now, I need to go."

"Sure," I said, suppressing a strong desire to follow him. Tri was good at hiding it, but I could sense that he was anxious.

I watched as my friend headed down the road and around the corner, vanishing into the city like so many people.