Page 126 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

He looked down at Max, whose head had lifted at the word fields, because apparently my dog understood opportunity in any language. “It’s not crowded. He would have room to run, and if he wants to rest, there are shaded areas away from the paths.”

My joking impulse slipped a little.

That should not have done anything to me, because this was all about Max. It was exactly the kind of thing a person might say if they were simply observant and wealthy enough to solve problems at a ridiculous scale.

Unfortunately, Rafe didn’t say it like Max was a charming accessory or a scheduling complication. No, Max’s comfort really mattered to him.

I looked down at Max, who had leaned more fully against my leg, tired but alert now, as if he knew the universe had just opened a door with grass behind it.

“Okay,” I said, softer than I meant to. “He’d like that.”

I gathered Max’s leash and adjusted my tote while Rafe opened the gate.

The city moved around us, loud and crowded and full of places people were supposed to fit themselves into.

Rafe glanced back at us. “Ready?”

Max stepped forward before I could answer.

I smiled helplessly. “Apparently, yes.”

16

RAFE

MAX TACKLES A DRAGON

The clearing was far enough north that the city would disappear completely by the time the van turned onto the private road leading to it.

It would have taken twenty by air.

That was the thought I kept returning to as the van moved out of Manhattan and into the long, slow unraveling of traffic beyond it. Twenty minutes in dragon form, perhaps less if the weather held and I didn’t mind drawing speed from the higher currents. I could have carried them both.

The image came to me uninvited: Quinn held safely against my chest, Max in a harness arrangement I would have had made if necessary, the air cold and clean around us, her hair coming loose from whatever practical arrangement she had forced it into that morning.

It was a dangerous image to ponder.

Max was elderly, half deaf on one side, and far too dignified to be subjected to experimental dragon travel because I found New York traffic tedious. Quinn barely knew me outside of the case, so I doubted a dragon flight would have gone over well. Humans were often frightened of heights. Sensibly so, given how breakable they were.

Besides, the van had space, cushioned flooring, water, and snacks. There was also a first-aid kit for Max, because once the driver had asked whether I meant water for the dog, I had realized I hadn’t been sufficiently specific about contingencies.

Quinn had climbed in, taken one look at the arrangement, and gone quiet.

Now Max slept in the back, stretched out on a folded blanket, exhausted from the dog park but alert enough that one ear still moved whenever Quinn unwrapped something from the food basket.

My staff had packed food when I had called ahead. Nothing elaborate, I had said, which my kitchen staff had interpreted with skepticism and vastly more competence than requested. There were sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper, sliced fruit, two glass bottles of sparkling water, one still, a tin of shortbread, napkins, and a separate container of plain grilled chicken labeled for Max in tidy handwriting.

Quinn had stared at the basket in shock, as if it had come from a fairy with a 401(k), then she ate half a sandwich in four bites.

I tried not to watch too obviously, but it was proving to be difficult.

She paused, looking faintly embarrassed. “Sorry. My lunch today was vibes and one questionable mint from the bottom of Max’s bag.”

“That doesn’t qualify as lunch,” I said in a disapproving tone.

“It had calories.”

“Barely.” I handed her the container of fruit.