'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons) (5 page)

Strangely enough, I think I’d just landed myself a job.

“Um, I’ll see myself out.”

Cameron’s attention shifted from the open doorway back to my face. “You do that. And next time, Miss Cavenaugh, I expect that you’ll call ahead before you decide to come over and fondle a dragon lord’s private art collection.”

His expression made it clear that this wasn’t a request, but a very politely worded order.

I nodded. Finding the painting may have been easy. But I had a feeling that Mr. Cameron Shaw would not be making the removal of said painting as easy as I’d first hoped.

Chapter Five

Despite my reservations about working for someone as...direct as Amanda George, it had taken Jeanie, Simon and me less than five minutes to decide the opportunity was a gift I simply couldn’t turn down. As the assistant to Myrna’s wedding planner, I’d have unimagined access to Relobu’s staff and security system. We all studiously ignored the fact that my knowledge of cummerbunds, corsages and any other wedding-related paraphernalia was non-existent. The only wedding I’d ever attended was Jeanie and Simon’s, and all they’d done to make it official had been to go to the courthouse and sign a piece of paper.

Nevertheless, I was going to be a wedding planner. Decision made, we’d all piled into the car and driven into town to celebrate our good fortune—with varying degrees of excitement. Simon dropped Jeanie, Emma and me at a local clothing store to assemble my “uniform” while he headed off to work his particular brand of magic, tracking down anyone and everyone who could fill us in on what I needed to know about Tulsa’s very own grand dame of all things bridal, Amanda George.

My palms were sweating again. A part of me wanted to laugh about the fact that I, a woman who could turn into a dragon in a moment’s notice, was this worked up over a job matching outrageously priced gowns with happy ladies. But I couldn’t deny that my heart rate skyrocketed every time I so much as thought about a veil, train, or tuxedo. I had a lot of homework to do in a very short amount of time.

We’d spent the evening spending outrageous amounts of money on clothes that I couldn’t see myself ever wearing again. By the time I got back to the cozy little apartment with access to a surprisingly large outdoor patio that Jeanie had somehow located and secured for me as soon as the deal with our client was made, it was all I could do to force myself to take off my shoes before falling into bed.

But now it was morning, and I’d half convinced myself that I could totally handle zipping a size eight lady into a size four dress. Hadn’t I just proved it before I left the house? Determined to make a better impression than I had yesterday, I was squeezed into my own version of Amanda’s power suit, wringing my hands as I stood outside the elegant offices of Bridal Visions.

Well, they would have been elegant, had someone not spray-painted the windows with a truly imaginative collection of racial slurs, both anti-human and anti-dragon. The cute little window frames, carved in such a way as to remind me of holiday gingerbread houses and once painted a sharp clean white, looked rather sad under their new coat of black spatter.

“That’s quite a mess.”

At the sound of my voice, the petite young woman who’d been scrubbing at the paint with a wet sponge paused, watching her feet as she cautiously rotated on the top of her ladder. “It most definitely is. Can I help you?”

Yeah.
You can teach me anything and everything I need to know about the wedding planning biz.

I cleared my throat, hoping that the action would help me breathe through my nerves. “Maybe. I was looking for Bridal Visions.”

The girl pushed at the arm of her rolled-up sleeve and dropped the sponge into a nearby bucket. “Well, you’re in the right place. Though I’m sure I speak for everyone on staff when I say this isn’t exactly the usual
vision
we go for.”

Climbing down the ladder, she wiped her hand on the leg of her pants and stepped toward me. “I’m April.”

“Savannah.” I held out a hand, and she gave it a shake before stepping back to retrieve her sponge.

I gestured to the window. “What happened here?”

April sighed. “This little gift is courtesy of our newfound anti-dragon friends. We’ve been contracted to work on the Myrna Banks wedding. You know. The girl who’s marrying a dragon morph? Some people have an issue with that, and they seem to like taking it out on our storefront.”

“It appears that they do.”

April suddenly stiffened. “I can assure you, we have this under control should you decide to contract with us for your wedding.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get married. I’m here as the new planning assistant. I think. I’ll be working for an Amanda George.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, she’s the owner.” The look of pity that flashed across her face at Amanda’s name told me that she did indeed understand the reason for my indecision. “Well in that case, come on in. In addition to morning graffiti cleanup, I also handle the cakes.”

Slightly wobbly on my feet—I didn’t spend that much time in heels—I followed her inside. Reflexively, I took a moment to inventory my surroundings, and what I saw made me tighten my knuckles on the strap of my purse.

I was completely out of my depth here.

Even though I’d made it clear I wasn’t a potential client, as soon as we’d entered the shop April launched into a sales pitch that appeared to be just as ingrained as my need to locate all security cameras in a new setting.

“As you can see, Bridal Visions prides itself on being the one-stop shop for your perfect wedding. We handle everything, from booking the venue to helping you choose your music for service and reception. We also have a collection of self-branded wedding attire, though we do offer access to other designer brands if the bride doesn’t find the dress of her dreams in-house.”

Along the far wall, mannequins, resplendent in gorgeous bridal gowns and slim-cut tuxedos, advertised the best Bridal Visions had to offer. While the assortment was mostly comprised of basic blacks and whites, the shop also displayed a couple of outfits in sharp greens and pinks that were clearly designed for the more edgy or spirited bride. Either way, the options seemed unlimited.

I heard myself swallow. I didn’t do undercover operations often. And when I did, they rarely lasted longer than a couple of hours. I just wasn’t good at faking confidence.

Jeanie and I had once laughed at a man who must have been meeting his newborn nephew for the first time. The baby’s mother had been adamant that her brother take a turn at holding the baby, despite his protests. The look on his face—a mixture of absolute terror coupled with no small dose of wonderment—had been priceless as the tiny boy was transferred into his stiff and waiting arms.

That dose of absolute terror? I was feeling it now. This place was pushing me close to a full-on panic attack.

Doing my best to look calm and knowledgeable, I followed April through the room. It was probably just my imagination, but I felt as if each and every one of the plastic faces were looking down at me in scorn, despite the fact that they had no eyes or other discernible facial features. I half expected one of them to turn and point a finger in my direction, screaming that I was a fake.

Two curtained areas—I assumed they were dressing rooms—were tucked on either side of a massive three-way wall mirror. I winced as I caught a glance at myself, all bony elbows and windblown hair. Even with the new clothes, I looked nothing like the effortlessly elegant April.

She kept up her patter as we walked down a hallway carpeted in a deep, rich cream, and into a room that was so filled with flowers I was afraid to breathe lest I die of pollen poisoning. Amid the multitude of blooms, a large bulletin board filled with fabric swatches leaned against a conference table, labeled with names like “chartreuse sunrise” and “raspberry sparkle.” I hadn’t known that many colors actually existed.

Completely unaware of my rising concerns, April extended her arm in invitation for me to look my fill.

“This is where we create sample flower arrangements. Once the bride decides on a design, we place the order and schedule delivery from there.” She pointed at a small desk cluttered with pens, more fabric swatches, and order forms in various stages of completion.

“So
all
the planning is done from here?” I half hoped she’d say yes, and I’d have an excuse to walk away. If this job wasn’t getting me closer to Relobu’s art collection, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Most of the time, yes. We usually do most of our design and fabrication work here in the shop, and then truck the finished products to the venue the day of the ceremony for final assembly. Of course, right now, we’re all focused on the Banks/Chobardan wedding. It was a huge coup for us to get the contract, so Amanda has ordered us to give Miss Banks anything she wants. Our bride has recently been so caught up in her work at DRACIM that we’ve been making a lot of house calls.”

The explanation made sense. I’d read that Myrna had taken over the running of the Tulsa DRACIM office, and with all the unrest within the ruling dragon council, I imagine she had her hands full. Until six months ago, there had been seven dragon lords, each ancient dragon ruling over a specified region, with strict rules in place forbidding interference from other realms. But one dragon lord, pretty high on the psychotic scale to begin with, had hatched a plan to kill all the other rulers and set himself up as the king of everything.

The other dragon lords had successfully curbed his impulses by removing him from power in the traditional dragon fashion—by removing his head from his body. But the resulting power vacuum had made all the other dragon lords itchy, and the list of younger wanna-be dragon rulers was growing by the day. DRACIM offices all over the world had humans requesting meetings with any dragon who would deign to see them, the humans frantically trying to achieve a head start on getting in the good graces of the next Chinese dragon lord, whoever he or she might be.

Frankly, I was surprised Myrna had the guts to schedule a fancy wedding at all, never mind one involving the only publicly known dragon morph. It was undisputed fact that dragons were firmly in place at the top of the food chain. But while some humans chose to ingratiate themselves with any member of the species in hope of furthering a personal agenda, there were others who turned their feelings of helplessness into anger.

And dragons that sometimes inhabited much weaker human bodies, like Trian and myself? Who better a target?

“And this,” April said, drawing my attention back to the shop, “is where I spend most of my time.” She opened this last door with a flourish.

“Good Lord!” I could only tip up my head and gawk at the sight before me. A multi-tiered cake, at least seven feet tall, sat on display in the center of the room, covered in white fondant with golden piping, bouquets of vibrant flowers draped artfully across every available surface.

It looked like a castle from some preteen girl’s imagination.

“Please tell me that isn’t real.” Having spent most of my life in rather less formal settings, I could only imagine the number of ants a cake that size would attract.

April laughed. “No. All our baking is handled at another location. These are just to give our brides an idea of what we can provide. We do keep samples on hand. Much smaller than this, of course. But allowing them to view an assortment of shape and color choices helps us fast-track the design process.”

“It appears you provide a fast-track to diabetes.”

She gave me a wink. “We have sugar-free versions of all our creations.”

Wow. In addition to Jeanie’s general culinary skills, she was a fair hand at cake decorating. But even she, who had created a spectacular edible version of Mr. Ruff for Emma’s fourth birthday party, had never made anything even close to the size of this thing.

“This cake is eleven dollars a slice, and available in several flavors, including caramel coffee, strawberry shortcake—”

“Eleven dollars a slice? That’s just—” I couldn’t wrap my mind around spending that much money on a pile of sugar. “Do people really pay that much for a cake?”

April nodded. “We’ve only sold one this size before, but—just between us—I’m really looking forward to the commission on the Banks cake. There are going to be over a thousand guests. And at least half of those are dragons! I told her the cake would need to be twice this big to feed everyone, especially with the number of attendees with non-human appetites. Myrna felt a cake that fed only four hundred would be plenty, but I’m still holding out hope that she’ll reconsider.”

I started to tell her that dragons weren’t that keen on sugary foods in general, or suggest that Bridal Visions figure out a way to make a bacon-flavored cake, but I didn’t get a chance.

Even though we were standing as far from the front entrance as possible, I knew the exact moment that Amanda arrived, because she immediately started shrieking my name. “Savannah!”

April winced, but didn’t hesitate to disappear just before my new boss rounded the corner. It was beginning to occur to me that screaming and angry was Amanda’s default state, no matter the situation.

“Why are you standing here? We have an appointment at the Relobu mansion. If you don’t start pulling your own weight immediately, I’m calling your agency and you’ll be out on the street by noon.”

All I could do is nod at the back of her head and follow her on teetering heels as she stalked back down the hall.

* * *

Amanda spent the entire drive over to Relobu Manor complaining at how hard it had been to get in touch with Miss Banks, and how behind schedule they were with practically everything. “It’s only two weeks before the ceremony, and she hasn’t stopped by for a second fitting on her dress! And the attendants! She tried to tell me she only wanted her friend, the redhead—Carol something—as her maid of honor. After I told her she needed more than just a single attendant, she picked her secretary and a dragon for bridesmaids!”

I
guess I can rule out being asked to participate in Amanda’s wedding.
It appeared an assistant was not an appropriate choice for a bridesmaid.

My new boss continued her diatribe. “How am I supposed to deal with that? I understand the creature is Lord Relobu’s niece, but other than a sash, how am I supposed to dress a dragon?”

Ah. It wasn’t the secretary she had a problem with. Interesting.

One set of fingers clenched tightly to the wheel, Amanda used her free had to tap on the notebook in my lap.

“The flower order must be made today, or I can’t guarantee we can get what we need. This young lady is very lucky that she has Relobu’s unlimited wealth and DRACIM’s clout behind her, or there would be no way I could pull this together in time. Are you writing this down?”