Tesser: A Dragon Among Us (A Reemergence Novel) (17 page)

They reached the sidewalk as the two middle-aged joggers were passing on their return leg. The husband of the pair looked at the semi-naked Tesser and gave him a bluntly dirty look. Tesser's simple response was to smile at the pretty wife with the tight spandex. She smiled back so enthusiastically she nearly ran straight into a parked car's side view mirror. The husband said something angrily to her as he gave the towel-wearing man another angry glance. When Tesser turned back, Abe was smiling. Tesser winked.

I really like this guy.

"It's right there. The birch-looking tree." Abe pointed at the tree with metallic bark that was sitting where it shouldn't have been.
 

"That is a paper birch tree, Abraham. And you are most definitely correct: that is a very new tree." Mr. Doyle took a slow step backwards towards the curb, unconsciously backing away from the invading plant.

"Hm," Tesser said as he walked unafraid past both men towards the tree. He kept one hand on the fold of the towel at his waist to ensure it wouldn't fall off in public.

"Does anything scare you?" Abe asked as Tesser walked towards the birch.

Tesser stopped and considered the question. "I am a little concerned about whatever brought about the disappearance of Kaula. But other than that, no; I fear precious little. It becomes tedious after a fashion. Being scared can be fun. Inevitability loses its charm given enough time. I guess you could say it's inevitable."

God, he's crazy. I gotta stop thinking the word: God. Mr. Doyle is gonna find out.

Tesser approached the short metal fence in the fading sun of the evening. Behind them, a few scattered streetlamps were starting to warm up their odd, orange glow.

"Hello, tree," Tesser said in a tone so friendly it was nearly absurd.
 

He reminds me of Barney. Hugs for everyone.

The twin knots of the tree slid open again, this time a little slower, like a sleeper awakening. The slit in the bark cracked open once more, and this time the three men were able to hear the tree's feminine voice.

"Hello, person," the tree said back to Tesser.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Tesser."

"I know that name. You're very old. Much older than I am, and that's saying something," the tree said in a cadence that was as whispery as a smoke-filled wind moving through a chime.

"You're a hamadryad, aren't you? Do you have a name?"

The tree's massive collection of leaves and branches high above tilted forward strangely.

Holy shit, that tree just nodded at him.

"I've been called Ellen by people before. A very long time ago."

Tesser smiled happily. "I'm so glad to find out your kind still exists. I've been asleep a very long time, Ellen, and I'd thought all of the special things such as yourself had faded from this world."

"My kind began to get quite tired forty two seasons past. Like the sun had set for good, though the light above kept shining."

Tesser nodded knowingly. "I know exactly what you mean. I'm sorry your life has been so strange of late."

The tree hummed softly before speaking again. "It has gotten better. I've been moving closer to this street for many days now. I don’t move very quickly, being a tree and all, and humans are very tough to manage when they see a hamadryad walking about. I've been very cautious. There's a different light coming from here. Coming from you, I think. I wanted to be near it. It feels good to be warm again."

"I'm glad I could help, Ellen. Can you speak with other dryads? Other hamadryads?"

"I could get them a message, though it is very hard for me. I will need to sleep for many days and nights to recover. But if it is important, I will do it for you, Tesser."

Abe looked around, waiting for someone to walk or drive by as the three men stood in the middle of the sidewalk, openly talking and listening to a tree, but no one came.
 
An empty street at this hour was a freak moment of chance.

"Can you ask the treekind what happened to the amethyst dragon? And can you tell them to be patient? I think the world is about to change again, and this time, for the better of all." Tesser spoke with conviction.
 

"Of course. Can I sleep right here? Is this safe?" Ellen asked.

Tesser turned, half-naked, to face his friends. "Mr. Doyle, do you think it would be prudent for Ellen to move into your garden? I think she's far less likely to feel the scrape of an errant saw blade at her feet if she were safely behind your small fence."
 

Mr. Doyle was slack-jawed.
 

Ha! He has no idea what's going on right now. Arrogant old fuck. This is awesome. I saw this thing before him. I'll never let him live it down!

"Mr. Doyle?"

"Yes, Tesser!" Mr. Doyle blurted. "She, Ellen, may move to my garden, though I don't know how long she plans on staying."

Ellen's paper mouth cracked into a happy smile. "I would live there as long as you would have me. Having a hamadryad as a neighbor has many benefits."

Mr. Doyle stepped forward. "Despite my raving paranoia regarding all things supernatural, I shall grant you your wish and be honored to have you as a guest in my garden. Please Ellen, move into my front yard. I would love to have you as my neighbor."

God, he looks nervous and freaking excited all at the same time. What a relief to know I'm not the only one.
 

"Then it's settled," Tesser said and clapped his hands together.

"Let me send your message, and once the night has fully dropped down upon us, I will move over to where you wish," Ellen said, her voice trailing off into the sound of a breeze between her branches.

"A dryad's sending. This will be in your memories for a very long time, I think," Tesser said as he backed up to where Mr. Doyle and Abe stood.

The tree's top swayed to and fro, as if a gale force wind was building in the air, though there was none. One by one, the branches rippled, turning the leaves of the tree up and over. Were it not for the humidity and stale wind all around them, they could be fooled into thinking a tornado was swirling right over the magical birch, just feet away. Then, suddenly, a real wind picked up. The air started slowly at first, moving just enough to cool the sweat on Abe's brow, but then began to move faster, much faster. The leaves of the tree flickered back and forth, and, suddenly, giving off a faint plinking noise, they all snapped free and hovered in midair, frozen like a painting.

The gust exploded upwards and wicked away all of Ellen's leaves into the darkening night sky, where they scattered in every imaginable direction high above, unseen by the millions of people below.

Tesser, still wet and wearing only a towel in the street, stood happily. "Thank you, Ellen."

The tree tilted forward, inclining itself humbly.

"That might've been the coolest thing I've ever seen," Abe said softly.

"How many trees will that… message reach?" Mr. Doyle asked.

Tesser shrugged. "It's hard to say. It depends on how many dryads there are near here and how many of them are still awake and capable of receiving her sending. When I roamed the earth long ago, a sending like the one we just saw would reach a hundred dryads, maybe two hundred. Now, it is harder to say."

"What do you hope to accomplish by having her send that message?" Abe asked.

"Just that, Abe. Hope. It's one of the most magical things in all the world, right up there with love, faith, and wonder. Without it, there's very little reason to go on. I have hope, and it's important that all the special things in this world that have faded away have hope too."

The three men left Ellen to rest before her move and returned back to the brownstone. Tesser left wet footprints on the sidewalk as he went.

Chapter Twenty-One

Matty Rindahl

So. Much. Data.

Matty was at her desk, eyes locked onto the monitor where spreadsheet after spreadsheet tantalized her with hidden details. This was something she was good at: finding the needle in the haystack. This was a large haystack.

She'd been stuck at this desk, many stories above the underground containment facility where the world's only dragon was kept in a medical coma for experimentation purposes. It sickened her if she thought about it, so she tried to bury herself in the research.

It was proving to be a momentous task to isolate usable information from the batteries of tests they ran. It was almost like the purple beast below was shifting about the answers its very body gave to elude being quantified.
 

DNA tests had revealed not one, but eighteen unique results for the dragon: a different result for every test they had run. Some of the tests showed a male result, some a female, though the physical evidence pointed that the creature was female.

Blood panels came back with numbers that didn’t make any sense either. Blood type results changed daily, and as soon as they tried to start predicting what the numbers would be on cholesterol, potassium, protein, phosphates, and sugars, the numbers would go whacky on them. The lab geeks were going gray.

It's like she's defying us in the only way she can.

Matty was on the fringe of the development departments related to Project Amethyst. They were taking the multitudes of samples and finding applications for them. Two such sub-projects had sent out emails earlier that day, and Matty took a break to read them.

The first was titled "White Blood Cell Tests: Phase 13."

Phase thirteen? Shit, this has been going on for some time now.

The email contained enormous amounts of scientific data: control information, dates, trial codes, tests and retests, and summaries. It was a mountain of info, and Matty skipped directly to the cause for Phase Thirteen. The hypothesis. The researchers believed that when the dragon's white blood cells were applied to cancer cells, the dragon's white blood cells would eat away at the cancer, eliminating it.

The email's tone seemed to support that idea, though the blood cells needed a fair amount of time to star their work, and if done wrong, the dragon blood destroyed the cancer ridden patient faster than the cancer was.

Jesus. Her blood can cure cancer?

With that impossible thought, she closed that email and went on to the next one. It carried a heavy title: “Possible names Dragon Skin patent”.

Dragon Skin?

Apparently, Fitzgerald Industries was working on using the dragon's scales to create body armor for the military. According to the ballistics data that Matty could barely decipher, the armor was performing very well. The email went on to say that the basic armor design incorporating small scales from the dragon's body were coming in at "Level IV," and the heavier armor that used only larger, thicker scales was "clearly Level V."

Level Five. That sounds really intimidating
.
 

A quick Googling of body armor told her that Level V armor was cutting edge and could stop most high velocity military rounds. It was still classified and highly secretive, and the government wanted it developed very badly. When she returned to the email, she saw multiple mentions of how much the State Department wanted lightweight Level Four and Level Five armor.

Prices of three to five thousand dollars per suit of the Level Four seemed to be reasonable. The discussion of raising the price to six thousand for the government was had as well.

Sticking it to the Feds.

The email went on to calculate the rate at which the scales regenerated after being removed, and the overall number of dragon scales that could be harvested within a given calendar year. The gross dollar amount was in the mid-eight-figure range at the lowest end.

Christ, that's just armor. How much money could we make if we could cure cancer?

Matty closed the emails and sat back in her chair. It was a very expensive office chair and was very comfortable. She spun in a circle, feeling waves of confliction wash over her.

I don't like this. I feel like keeping that creature alive down there is somehow wrong. After seeing those wispy, beautiful wings, I can't stop thinking about what it would look like soaring in the sky, free and beautiful.

Matty closed her eyes and tried to envision it. The image came to her quickly and freely, bringing a smile to her face.

But if we can cure cancer? And if this body armor project pans out, how many lives could be saved? Soldier's lives. Police and politicians alike. Well, maybe not the politicians, but still. We're talking about millions of lives saved, maybe more if we don't give the body armor to the politicians.

She needed a break. Something to cheer her up and get her mind off of the entire project. She picked up her phone and dialed the Boston office. A few prompts of the menu later, she was talking to her old boss, Alexis. She couldn't say what she was doing now, but she could vent about how much stress it was putting her under.