"No one can explain a dragon."
--Ursula K. LeGuin

Taking the dragon to the cemetery had been the first mistake. But leaving her behind would've been another mistake, and given the choice, even in retrospect, Steve wasn't sure which mistake would've been bigger. But given the given the size of Sid's teeth, he knew which mistake would've left bigger holes, anyway.

Sid hadn't wanted to be left behind, and he didn't want to leave her alone. It had been that simple. Steve thought it'd be safe; it was only a cemetery, and no one frequented those. Not willingly, anyway.

The day was bright and warm, and he had the car windows down. The roses were in the back seat; his mama had always loved roses. He stared out the window as he drove, using the road as an excuse not to talk, not to be social. Sid had picked up on his mood. The little dragon lay in the front seat, a long black curl watching him with quiet eyes. Steve didn't talk. He didn't want to.

It wasn't a long drive. He left the car parked on the road at the foot of the hill; the grave was up towards the top, under a spreading ash tree. Sid jumped from his shoulder, made for the tree, curling around and around its trunk. He didn't care. He found himself brushing off the headstone, smoothing his hands over the rough granite, pulling up an odd weed or two. Finally he laid the roses down at the base of the stone and sat down under the ash, beside the grave.

"Hey, Mama," he said quietly. The ground was cool and dry, the grass brittle with drought. He sat staring out over the grounds. It was peaceful here, quiet, calm, only the wind and land and ash for company. He could see other cars just around the bend, a group of people gathered under a blue-striped tent, voices just barely audible on the wind. No concern of his.

"Glass?"

"Nothing," he said.

Sid prowled around the grave. She raised up on her hind legs, one foreclaw on the headstone as she sniffed at it. Then she settled, folded her legs under her, her tail wrapped around herself. The tip of that tail twitched. "Why here?"

He shrugged.

She was silent for a moment, then cocked her head at the stone. "What say?"

He didn't look at the headstone. "My mama's name. Year she was born." His voice was steady. "Year she died."

"Memory-stone." She twisted, taking in the whole cemetery. "All?"

"Yeah. So we can find the grave."

"Grave?"

"Grave." He patted the earth next to him, but Sid only cocked her head, as if waiting for more. "Where my mother's buried."

Sid went completely still. She stared, unblinking. "Bury dead?"

"Yeah."

She jumped up on the stone, staring at the view, the hundreds of graves spread out below them. "All?"

So much death. One more grave in the midst of many. "Yeah."

"Bury food," Sid breathed. She sounded shocked. "Waste..."

It took a moment. Steve stared. "What?"

Her toes curled over the edge of the stone. "Bury waste. Not eat. Waste food. Waste memory."

He couldn't stop staring. "We're not food."

"Are," Sid said. She cocked her head at him again. "All food. Glass food. Sid food."

He...was food?

Eyes closed, Sid sprawled along the top of the stone, turning to bask her belly in the sun, her head hanging upside down over the edge. "All food." She gaped at him in a sudden, upside-down grin. Her tongue lolled out; her teeth gleamed white and sharp in the sun. "Glass big feast for small Sid. Tasty."

Something inside Steve turned over. "What?"

That grin didn't waver. "Eat well when time come. Enjoy Glass. Good eat."

She was a hunter. A predator. He'd known that. He should've guessed.

"Glass?" Sid said, high, piping, quicksilvery.

Steve didn't answer. He only wanted to get away. He wasn't going to stay here with...with... His legs were stiff as he limped down the hill; he fought to keep his shaking under control. He would not run. He would not show fear.

Something flew past him, brushing his shoulders with an outstretched wing, and he startled. Sid pulled up short, landed on a statue in front of him, a sorrowing marble angel gathering cold marble children under its wings. Sid clambered out, perched on the angel's wing. "Glass?"

"Get your happy meal somewhere else," he snapped. "Was that all you wanted? Is that what you're really after? You --"

"Glass scared." Her tail curled along the edge of the wing. "Scared of Sid." She snapped idly at a passing windblown leaf.

"Fuck you."

She looked him up and down, as if sizing him up for an easy dinner. Her tongue snaked out, licked her chops. "Only prey scared."

Steve settled for crossing his arms and glaring at her. Down the hill, the voices in the tent rose and fell, rhythmic prayer.

"Nestling," Sid said. "Learn. Glass food. Sid food. Mind eat. Spirit eat. Glass eat Sid and Sid eat Glass. Friends feed each other."

She sounded calm, normal, everyday life. His breathing slowed. Maybe he'd misunderstood. Put that way...

"Glass die, Sid eat," Sid went on. "Body eat. Feast well, remember Glass well. Life flavor. Shared in feast. Glass live on in Sid."

He hadn't misunderstood. "Fuck you."

She cocked her head. "Glass not share life? Not live on?"

Steve was about to snap back, to stalk off again. But something about that, those words... He couldn't unclench his hands. "You're saying you're gonna eat me."

"Yes," Sid said, and waited.

Her head was cocked, as if he was being incredibly dense. He had to be missing something here. "But...I wouldn't eat you."

Her wings snapped up in an explosion of claw and membrane. "Not eat? Waste Sid? But Sid friend! Sid die, Glass must eat!"

He only stood there.

Her voice trembled. "Sid live long. Have memories. Life. Want share. Want live on. Tell and share, some. Not enough. When die, give. People eat Sid, share Sid's life. Enjoy Sid's flavor and remember Sid as lived. Sid live on. Sid become part of all." She drooped. "Sid not have People here. Sid die, forever. No memory. No feast."

"Sid..."

She leaped from her perch, made it to his shoulder before he could jerk away. "Glass not want to learn Sid?"

He hadn't misunderstood. He just hadn't understood enough. "Sid..." How to explain this? "Humans don't eat. We're not...food. We bury. Or burn."

"Bury." Sid was silent for a long moment, her tail swiping across his back in thoughtful arcs. Then, slowly, "Give life...to land?"

Put that way... "Yeah."

She jumped back to the angel's wing. The little dragon's wing swept the graveyard. "All?"

Steve looked out over the acres. Below them, at the foot of the hill, the mourners were leaving, scattering to cars, some glancing up towards him.

"Yeah."

Silence, broken only by the rumble of car engines. "Memory in land," Sid whispered. She sounded awed. "So all can share. Not just eaters."

She cocked her head again at Steve, then launched herself from the angel's wing and glided back past him. He turned, just as she landed at his mama's grave. Sid shook herself, curled around and around, three precise times. Then she settled against the earth, spread out in the warm sunshine, curled up and eyes closed.

Steve stood there, still confused. The sun was warm. The trees whispered at him. He felt jumpy, as if being watched and the land was alive with far too much. He shivered, picked his way back to his mama's grave and eased to sit next to Sid.

"Glass funny nestling," Sid said without opening her eyes. "No fur. All beak." She gape-grinned up at him, her tongue lolling. "Not look tasty at all."

"I'm not," Steve said firmly.

"Are, now." Sid nosed his hand, the one she'd bitten, the one he'd sliced into to give her blood, just last week. "Not then."

"Then?" Steve stopped.

Memory in land...

Hesitantly, he stretched his hand to the earth. It felt warm, as if with a thousand beating hearts. Alive, as if with hundreds of memories. As if all he had to do was reach out and feel...

He pulled his hand back. No. Not yet.

Behind him, someone gasped. Steve startled, turned.

A man stood there, trembling, slick and tight in an expensive Armani suit and tie. He clutched a black, leathery book.

He stared at Sid.

Sid squeaked and scrambled for the ash tree. The man only stared at the spot she'd been in, and it was then Steve noticed the big silver cross the man wore.

"A demon," the man whispered. He lifted his eyes to where Steve sat, and there was sudden recognition in that gaze. "You."

Steve kept his voice chill and calm. He had to play this off. "Excuse me?"

"Satan," the man said. His face was red, sweating. "Beside you. Hovering over you. You're..." He stared harder. "You're one of them. Sweet merciful Jesus."

"Give me a break," Steve said, in a bored voice. A religious nut. Just what he needed.

The man pointed a trembling hand. "You defile this sacred ground, the blessed dead -- you consort with demons --"

Rolling his eyes, Steve casually got to his feet. "Look, man," he said loudly. "Drop acid somewhere else. Leave me alone."

"Satan," the man said, "The blood of Jesus protects me. You will not --" He took one trembling step towards Steve.

The branches of the ash exploded in a flurry of leaves and twig. Something black and angry leaped from the tree and past Steve, a snarling flash of white fangs and outstretched talons. The man's eyes bugged, and he raised his hands in an attempt to ward; he spun and ran. Sid chased, snapping and snarling, hissing words that Steve couldn't understand. But he understood the small bolt of fire that exploded in the grass just in front of the man, and he heard the man's yells very clearly. Too clearly. He didn't sound too holy now.

Torn between laughter and shock, Steve just stood there. He couldn't play this off now; he couldn't smooth it over. Sid was making her presence very known, very loudly. Steve watched as the man scrambled into his car and jerked it into gear and spun out. Sid dropped to another gravestone, preened a wing, then leaped to the ground and trotted back up the hill to Steve. But she stopped short, sat her haunches down just in front of him.

"Not tasty," she said, and spat. "Not fit for food."

That did it. Steve collapsed into laughter. He went to his knees, then sprawled on the earth, unable to stop, until he was gasping for air and flat on his back in the sunshine. Sid crawled on top of him and sat on his stomach, her head cocked. The absurdity -- himself sprawled in a graveyard, a little dragon sitting confused and patient on his belly and a bible-thumper's bulgy-eyed panic -- it all set Steve off again. He couldn't catch his breath.

"Glass laugh," Sid said.

He stared resolutely up at the sky, the bright blue and white. Specks of black spiraled and dove, crows. It hurt his eyes, but he kept staring until he had his breath back. "You were great," he said to Sid, and scratched her neck, just behind her head.

"Glass laugh," she said again, as if waiting for an explanation.

Laughter bubbled up again. The look on the man's face...

"Sid not laugh." Her gaze was serious. "Not-food want hurt Glass. And Glass laugh."

"The man's a fruit loop." Steve stared back at the sky. "An idiot."

"Not stupid," Sid said. "Sid taste. Sid know."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Steve raised up on his elbows. Sid shifted, but remained balanced on his stomach. They were almost nose to snout, and Steve could see her fangs. "Taste?"

Sid snapped, and her tongue flicked out, licked at her snout and teeth.

Steve couldn't help it. He collapsed back against the earth again, laughing.

Sid jumped off his belly. The sudden push and sharp claw-pricks made him gasp. Dead leaves and grass rustled, as she sat alert and upright in the dry grass, her tail lashing.

"Go," Sid said. "Go now."

Steve opened his mouth, shut it. She was right. That idiot could possibly convince some cop that Steve had a dangerous animal up here. "Yeah," Steve said instead, and rolled to his elbows, got his feet under him.

Sid jumped to the headstone, then to his shoulder. He staggered from the impact, but waited until she'd settled to her usual curl along his shoulders. His car was just at the bottom of the hill.

The hard ground hadn't helped his hip. His back ached and his leg felt numb. But something else occurred to him, as he limped down the hill. "You're not invisible."

She sniffed. "Not-food scared of Sid. Fear keep away."

He smiled at that, scratched behind her ears, just at the base of her skull. She rrrr'ed, bumped her head under his chin. A dragon curled around his shoulder in the warm sunshine, and here he was, so used to it already that he thought nothing of the familiarity.

And if that's any sign of what the really weird's been like...

"Glass?" Sid sounded hesitant.

"Hmmm?"

"Glass share self. Let Sid eat." She hesitated. "Sid want share, too. Balance."

It had to be his destiny to say "what" to a little lizard for the rest of his life. "What?"

Sid was silent for a long moment. "Glass share blood. Make Sid human nestling." Another, longer silence. "Sid want same for Glass."

So much for familiarity. His hand ached. He rubbed at it, felt the rough scars of knife slashes and dragon bite as he started limping back down the hill again. "You don't have to," he said quietly.

"Sid do. Make Glass of People."

"I thought I was."

"Spirit is." Sid rubbed her head under his jaw. "Attitude is. Not blood. Need true-blood. Sid share. Full bond. Offer food so Glass learn."

He had a sudden image of himself licking at a slash on her paw. He repressed a shudder.

She slumped. "Reject Sid. Not eat. Not share. Not want."

They were at his car. Carefully, he pulled her from his shoulder and sat her down on the sunroof so he could look her in the face. "No," he said. He couldn't explain how the idea of drinking her blood made him sick. He'd just insult her again. "I just...I just don't want to be People now. Not here."

"No People here," Sid said miserably. "Sid alone. Always alone."

He didn't know what to say. He laid a hand alongside her head and neck, but she lay limp, eyes closed.

Movement caught his gaze. Just around the bend, from the cover of bushes and trees, there was another car. He thought it looked like the nut's car, but wasn't sure. He was only sure of one thing -- the camera pointed at him from behind the safe cover of fiberglass and windshield.

Not stupid... Steve swallowed, suddenly cold.

Sid stirred under his hand, then stilled. She growled, low and deep.

"No," Steve said in a low voice.

But her muscles bunched, as if gathering for a jump. He spread his hand, clamped down suddenly, pinning her to the car roof. He didn't want to find out what else the bastard had concealed in his car.

Sid squirmed, trying to pull free.

"No," Steve said again.

"Not-food," Sid growled. "Not-food learn not hurt Glass."

"Don't argue." He fumbled his car door open. "Get in the car."

She stayed tensed and bunched under his hand. He wouldn't be able to hold her if she decided to jump.

He had to explain, fast. Somehow. "Sid is human nestling," Steve said, clamping down tighter. "This is human thing." The words growled from him. "Quit fuckin' around and get in the goddamn car."

She looked about to protest, but slid from under his hand and squirmed from the car roof and through the open door. Steve didn't wait. He slid in, slammed the door, jerked the car into gear. Luckily, the car was pointed in the opposite direction of the nut's, and Steve pulled around the other side of the hill, looped around and made for the exit. He glanced into the rearview mirror as he turned onto the boulevard. No sign of following, and he relaxed.

Sid hissed. She sat upright and still on the passenger's seat, her tail curled around her and her gaze hot and angry. "Glass scared," she hissed. "Glass run. Glass prey."

Oh, lord. "Glass human," he snapped. "Not People."

Sid only sat stiff and upright. Waiting.

"I don't want you getting hurt," Steve said.

"Not fair hunt if not chance hurt," Sid sniffed.

"Bullshit. He might've had a gun." Sid looked confused; Steve sighed. He didn't speak for a moment, thinking how to describe it. "Metal stick. Shoots...I mean, throws fire and metal. Very fast, very hard. You wouldn't have a chance. You'd be dead before you got off the car roof."

"Magic."

"No," Steve said. "A...a tool. Technology." He hoped she'd understand that. "I'll have Cat show you."

Sid considered that. Steve glanced at the rearview mirror; his belly clenched.

There was a black car behind him.

It was just far enough so he couldn't make out the driver. But it looked like the nut's. Steve kept silent. He didn't want Sid to get any ideas.

"Sid not know," Sid said finally. "Glass head closed when wake. Can't read Glass to know." She hesitated. "Glass need eat Sid. So Glass and Sid learn together."

"Sid..."

Sid sighed, lay back down on the seat, curled up. Steve stifled another sigh of his own. It wasn't worth the argument. He turned onto the highway, kept a watch in the rearview. The black car followed. Maybe just coincidence; this was the way back to San Francisco proper, after all.

Maybe.

The next exit had a McDonald's sign towering over the road. Normally, he avoided the place, but this time... It was public. It was off the highway. It probably had a payphone. The decision didn't take more than that; he turned onto the exit and into the McD's parking lot, and spun his car into a parking space that -- miraculously -- was right by the windows, a clear, open view.

Sid had raised her head at the sudden stop, blinking. "Go invisible," Steve said. "Now. And come on."

He got out of the car, waited until she scrambled up to his shoulder and perched in her usual spot. Then he headed into the restaurant, just as the black car pulled into the space behind his.

He hadn't expected that. He really hadn't. He'd been hoping it was just coincidence. His legs trembled, but he made it past the front counter and around the corner to the other side of the building, back to the men's room. The door slammed shut behind him, and he leaned against the wall for a long minute, shaking.

Sid jumped from his shoulder to the sink.

"Stay invisible," Steve said, when he was sure of his voice.

Sid cocked her head at him. "Not stupid."

Steve closed his eyes, breathed out as much tension as he could, and reached down and out. The energy burned, as it always did, and his head throbbed just behind his temples, but he gritted his teeth, pulled the magic up, tried to shape it to the picture he had in mind. He'd seen Neal do this a couple times in Kern, but Steve had never tried it on his own.

Something inside him settled, an eerie sensation of something dropping into the pit of his stomach. He glanced at the mirror, and jumped, then fell back against the wall, keeping his mouth tightly shut against his relief and anger at his own stupidity. He'd cast the illusion, after all. But it was weird to see a strange face staring back at him from the mirror, weirder still to not see Sid's reflection, even though she still perched on the edge of the sink, right in front of him.

His head was really hurting now; it felt like the start of a migraine. But he studied the reflection again. His face didn't look quite right; something shimmered, but it would have to do. He pulled his silk shirt off, left his white t-shirt on. Hopefully, it looked sufficiently hick-ish to pass with the face.

"Glass hide," Sid said curiously.

"Yeah," Steve said. He gently scooped her up and cracked open the men's room door. The nut wasn't in immediate sight. Steve slipped out, set Sid down on the closest table. "Stay there. And don't make noise."

"Not nestling," she hmphed, but quietly. Steve ignored that, spotted the payphone just outside the rear door. He limped out, but his mind went blank. He pressed his forehead against the cool plastic of the phone cubicle, tried to breathe through the pain, tried to calm down. He couldn't think of who to call, who would be home, who would be willing to get dragged into this. Finally, his fingers picked out Smitty's number, and Steve held on through four rings, five, praying. Six...and it picked up.

The voice was casual. "I've already murdered my telemarketer quota today."

"Thank god." Steve slumped against the brick wall.

Smitty's voice went from casual to concerned in one syllable. "Steve?"

Steve didn't want to explain, not here, not outside, not anywhere that nut might overhear. "I -- I need a ride. Me and Sid. It's an emergency."

A long silence.

That wasn't good. Steve kept tight control over his voice. "I'm at a McD's off 4A. The Fresno exit. I'm..." He glanced quickly up; still no one in the immediate area. "I'm not wearing my face."

Another, longer silence.

"Smitty?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. For now. I --" Through the window glass, Steve saw the bible-thumper nut get out of his car and go into the McD's on the other side. Steve lowered his head, turned partially away. He clenched the phone. "Look...please..."

"I'll be there," Smitty said quietly. "Can you hang on?"

The nut was making a slow, casual walk of the restaurant. Steve swallowed. "Yeah." He saw Sid straighten. But she glanced at the window, didn't move.

"Make sure you get Sid a milkshake." There was a sudden grin in Smitty's voice. "Chocolate." He hung up, and Steve was left with a dial tone and shaking hands. The nut had peered out the window at him, turned away. Steve swung back through the McD's door and sank down onto the plastic bench.

"Sid handle not-food," Sid said softly. She snapped at the empty air suggestively, cocked her head.

"No," Steve said. He knew her teeth. He knew they were sharp. He was scared, but the bible-thumper really hadn't done anything to deserve permanent handling.

Sid watched him; Steve shifted uncomfortably. "Glass laugh at not-food. Call stupid." Her tail curled around her. "Glass run like scared nestling when not-food not-stupid."

That stung. But he wasn't about to argue, not here. "You hungry?" He hated the food here, but he needed a reason to stay.

Sid just looked at him.

He didn't like that look at all. Steve pushed himself to his feet, made for the front counter. The lights in the place were too bright; they stabbed through his eyes, and he squinted against the pain. The nut wasn't in the restaurant now, as far as Steve could tell. But the black car was still outside, parked in the space across from Steve's.

Steve felt his back stiffen. He tried to remember he was covered by illusion. Sid was invisible to everyone but him. But Steve still felt exposed; what if the nut did have a gun? What if he was planning to use it? A public place would not matter, if the guy was completely cracked, and all Steve had done by stopping here was to put others in the line of fire.

"You want fries with that?"

Steve blinked at the bored teenager in front of him. The over-nuked fish sandwich and dry burger would be bad enough. Steve was about to say no, but changed his mind. "And a chocolate milkshake. And coffee."

The next half hour stretched to forty five nervous minutes, then an hour. Sid recoiled from the smell of the hamburger, but she had fun pouncing on the fries and slurping them down, and she went into squeaking, ecstatic spasms over the chocolate milkshake. So much for quiet -- but the nut hadn't made a reappearance. If Steve kept the little dragon occupied, she wouldn't go after the nut directly. He hoped, anyway.

The heat from the coffee cup was soothing; he held it up to his temples, felt the headache ebb, just a bit. He really needed to go home and take a long, hot soak in the tub.

"Glass brood," Sid said.

"Thinking," Steve said quietly.

"Think too much," Sid said. "Need do." Then she glanced over towards the play area, with its climbing bars, ladders, nets, slides and pool of plastic balls, all in bright yellow, red and blue.

Steve didn't need to be a dragon to understand that look. If she stayed invisible, it'd be safe enough. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll wait here."

"Not come with Sid?"

"I'm not allowed." Steve indicated the sign. "Adults have to have kids with them to go in."

"A nestling thing." But Sid still stared at the play area.

Steve smiled. "Human nestlings."

"No fun alone." She cocked a look at him. "Sid not leave Glass alone for not-food."

Steve looked around. The only other adults in the restaurant were engrossed in their cigarettes and coffee and ignoring their kids. But it would look very odd if he went into the play area alone; it would get more attention than he wanted right now. "You go ahead," he said. "I'll be okay."

Silence. Sid's tail was still. "Glass false image," Sid said. "Again."

Steve looked at her. She sat upright, her eyes dim and serious.

"Nestling fears," Sid said. "Nestling not face, not People. Sid teach." She gape-grinned at him. "Sid protect until learn." She ducked her head into the milkshake cup.

Steve sighed. Just what he needed, a dragon bodyguard. He still wasn't sure what to do with Sid as a friend. A shadow crossed his sight, and he glanced up. Smitty had come around the corner of the front counter and stood looking around. He stared at Steve for a moment...

...and came straight over, grinning. "Rindell. Long time, no see."

Steve couldn't keep the surprise off his face.

Smitty stopped at the edge of the booth. "Where's Sid?" he said in an undertone.

Sid nosed his hand. Her snout dripped milkshake.

Smitty glanced at his hand, grinned. He slid into the booth. "Blonde's definitely not your color. You look like Dolly Parton with a beard."

Behind Smitty, around the corner, Steve saw the nut taking another slow stroll through the restaurant. He averted his gaze, leaned forward. "How --"

"You were the only one staring at me," Smitty said, "and the cup was moving." He tapped the milkshake cup. Sid softly mock-growled at him, and Smitty grinned again. "It was rather obvious."

"Obvious." Steve slumped back. "Great."

"That bad?" Smitty said softly.

"'Scuse me, friends," said a voice. The nut had come over to their table, stood over them.

Sid's tail lashed against Steve's hand. He didn't dare make any move towards her, didn't dare tell her to keep still. He just looked at the nut, hoping the man would go away.

"I'm looking for a friend," the man said. His voice was soft, deep. "Man about my height, dark hair. Purple shirt."

"Sorry," Smitty said.

Steve only shrugged. He wasn't about to speak and have the nut recognize his voice.

"You look troubled, friend," the nut said to Steve. His gaze hadn't left Steve's face. "Do you need help?"

"I don't mean to be rude," Smitty said, "but this is a private conversation."

The nut's gaze flickered. "Jesus commands us to help those in need. Your troubles can be his troubles, friend, if you let them."

Steve heard the bare beginnings of Sid's growl. He had to get out of here. Abruptly he shoved himself to his feet, and the nut stepped back a pace in surprise. "My troubles," Steve said in a raspy, gruff voice, "are between me and Jesus. I don't remember your name coming up in the conversation." He squeezed out from the booth, stalked across the restaurant. Hopefully, Sid had sense enough to follow.

"Beautiful," Smitty murmured, grinning. The drummer was right behind him.

"Not here," Steve said.

"Him?"

Steve waited until they'd made it out the door and into the bright sunlight. "Yeah," he said quietly, as they reached Smitty's car. "Bastard followed me from the cemetery. He...saw Sid. He had a camera." Then Steve turned, and went cold. Sid wasn't behind him.

"A camera," Smitty said.

Steve didn't answer. He was trying to stare into the restaurant; he couldn't see anything but vague moving shadows against the brighter sunlight.

"Steve?"

He wasn't about to go back in there. It would look real strange if he did.

"Sid's still in there," Smitty said.

Steve glanced at him. He didn't need to say it.

"Your face's shifting," Smitty said. "Lock it down, Wayne. Unless you really want trouble."

"Dammit --"

"Lock it down," Smitty snapped. "Sid's not stupid. She'll get out. We'll wait."

It wasn't Sid he was worried about. Steve opened his mouth, but then the doors of the restaurant slammed out, and the air exploded with angry, terrified yells. The nut ran from the restaurant, stopped a few yards from the door, spun around, yelling something incoherent. He was splattered with light brown milky stuff and he clutched his right hand tight in a blood-soaked handkerchief.

Something thudded onto Smitty's car roof; Steve startled. But Sid only settled herself and spat. "Ruin good sweet," she said, as she preened her foreclaws. "Glass owe Sid another."

Smitty burst out laughing. The nut's yelling cut off; he glared at Steve and Smitty, then yanked open his own car door and pulled out the leather-bound Bible. His face tightened and he resolutely strode back into the restaurant.

"Sid, you're priceless," Smitty said.

Steve decided he didn't want to know. "Let's get out of here."

But Smitty was grinning again. "Hang on. I've got an idea." Smitty opened his car door, rummaged in the back for a moment. When he emerged, he flashed something at Steve, a metal bolt screwed into a washer and nut. "Watch for me."

"Smitty..."

"You're going to drive out of here," Smitty said firmly, "in your own car. Or you going to let that idiot decide what you can do?"

Sid cocked her head at Smitty, though he couldn't see her. "Wise Shaper." She slanted a glance at Steve. "Shaper think as People."

Smitty grinned again, then casually walked over the nut's car. He bent, placed the bolt on the ground, pointing up, under the rear tire, then casually strolled back. Inside the restaurant, the shadows were becoming agitated, frenzied. It didn't look quiet in there.

"Now let's go," Smitty said, nodding at Steve's car. "He won't get far."

Steve just looked at him, not understanding.

Smitty sighed. "It'll blow his tire. He won't be able to prove a thing."

So the nut was staying here, no matter what. Steve found himself grinning. Suddenly he didn't want to just leave it at that. He sauntered over to his car, leaned casually against the driver-side door facing the restaurant, and broke his illusion.

Smitty had been opening his car door, paused. "Perry, what the fuck you doing?"

Steve grinned back over his shoulder.

The nut burst out from the restaurant again -- or, rather, was firmly escorted out by the manager and two hefty teenagers. There were loud words, and the nut was red-faced and bulgy-necked as the manager snapped something about the police at him and turned and left.

Then the nut saw Steve.

Steve only smiled at him. He heard a thump behind him; Sid nosed his shoulder, then reared up, spread her wings. Steve heard Smitty choke.

The nut's eyes bulged. He scrambled for his car, fumbled at the door.

Steve wasn't about to push his luck. He yanked open his own car door. "In. Now."

Sid eeled from the roof into the car. Steve slid in after her, got the car going just as the nut straightened and started towards them.

Steve pulled out, nearly running the nut down, and the sight of the nut's face in the rearview had Steve laughing. He backtracked for the highway, suddenly at ease. But an odd clicking noise had him looking around the car. It didn't sound right. It hadn't been doing that earlier, and there was nothing he could see. He rolled down the window. Something outside, near his rear wheels, clicking in rhythm.

Movement in the side mirror caught his attention. The nut's car was back there again. Steve felt his face go stiff; Sid jumped up onto the seat back.

"Bait," Sid said, and gape-grinned. "Bait and trap. Smart Shaper. Smart Glass."

So much for Smitty's big plan. Steve made for the highway. If nothing else, he could outrun the man. If he got picked up by the highway patrol, at least --

The car thudded, jerked. Metal scraped and whined against pavement, and Steve swore as the steering wheel fought his hands. He wrestled the car to the side of the road, threw it into park, and sat for a moment, panting. The car listed to the driver's side; it had sounded like a blown tire.

Oh shit.

Something black passed by, pulled ahead of Steve's car and off onto the shoulder. Steve wasn't about to sit in his car and do nothing. He shoved his car door open, made it out just as he saw the nut's car door swing out --

"Good," Sid growled in his ear. Her claws were tight in his shoulder. "Glass teach. Teach not-food not prey."

A horn blew from behind him; tires slewed gravel. Steve jumped, as Smitty yelled at him. Steve didn't wait. He scrambled into Smitty's car; Sid squawked in surprise, lost her balance, tumbled into Smitty's lap. Smitty didn't even wait for the car door to close. He floored the gas and passed the nut.

"Goddam showman," Smitty said. "You had to push."

"Your little trick didn't work." Steve got a grip on the car door, slammed it shut, then sank back into the seat, breathing hard. Too close. Too freaking close.

Smitty glanced at his rearview. "Look."

Steve turned. The nut had started to follow, but was now pulling off the road, his rear driver's tire sparking and shredded rubber.

"It takes a few minutes," Smitty said. His voice was tight. "It's not instant -- ow -- dammit, Sid!"

Sid squirmed in Smitty's lap, righting herself before jumping to Steve's lap. Her claws dug into Steve's thigh, and she sat upright and poised, her tail lashing as she glared up at Steve.

"You okay?" Steve said.

Her head snaked down, and her teeth sank into Steve's left hand. Before Steve could do more than yell in shock, she'd scrambled up and over his shoulder to the backseat.

Steve gripped his hand tight. Four clean, precise toothbites welled blood. Smitty stared; Steve twisted around to face the little dragon in the backseat.

"Glass brave when think not-food helpless," Sid growled. "Brave when not-food act stupid. Not-food not helpless, Glass run." Clear, precise, spat. "Coward."

"Smart," Steve shot back. He clutched his left hand, pressed hard to stop the bleeding. At this rate, he'd have nothing but scars. "You don't know humans, lizard. You don't --"

"She's right," Smitty said.

Steve twisted back.

Smitty kept his gaze on the road. "You only did that crap in the parking lot because you thought he couldn't get back at you." Smitty met Steve's gaze evenly. "That was stupid. Even for you."

Anger tightened Steve's chest. He slumped against the car door to stare out the window. His head was pounding again. His jaw clenched painfully around what he wanted to say. He didn't want to get into a fight. Not here. Smitty had put himself in the line of fire, after all.

Worse, there was a little niggling voice in the back of his head, the one he'd been hearing ever since he and Jonathan had come back from L'shahn.

All I did was run. All I did was hide. Again...

"And Glass is right, too." Smitty glanced into the rearview mirror at Sid. "That idiot had a gun." He looked at Steve. "You explain to her about that?"

Steve didn't answer.

"Not fair if not chance hurt," Sid said.

"Life's not fair," Smitty said. "And human life's really unfair. Glass said it. You don't know humans. We do. And when we say something's dangerous, we're not gonna stick around to let you prove how human-stupid you are. Got it?"

Sid made a noise. Steve glanced back; she was sitting bolt upright on the backseat. Then, silently, she jumped down to the dark car floor, out of sight and silent.

"Thanks," Steve muttered.

Smitty was silent. "No," he said finally. "I'm not gonna let you get away with that, either." He jerked the car to the side of the road, stopped, parked. He sat staring out the windshield, then twisted to study Steve for another long moment.

Steve shifted uncomfortably.

"Stupid human," Smitty said, then glanced down to where Sid had poked her head out from behind the seat. "Stupid lizard. Both of you, stupid."

"Smitty..."

"Shut up," Smitty snapped. "You pulled this shit with Neal, before. I'm not keeping quiet this time."

Steve edged against the door. He'd never seen Smitty like this.

"You're right," Smitty said. "She's right. And both of you are fuckin' wrong." Suddenly his voice was sharp. "Will you both quit trying to prove how right you are?"

Steve couldn't meet the drummer's gaze. After a moment, Sid eeled up from behind the seat and into Steve's lap. She curled there, head covered by her wings.

"Brother," Smitty said. He got the car going again, accelerated onto the highway. "You two deserve each other."

There was a long silence. Tentatively, Steve scratched the back of Sid's head, right behind the ears. He heard a faint rrrr, and she unfolded her wings enough to peep between them.

"We do," Steve said quietly to her. "But I think you got the worst of the bargain."

Sid uncurled, stretched, then raised up on her hind legs, her foreclaws curled against his chest so that she stared into his face. She gape-grinned, tongue lolling.

"Sid did," she said, and everything was fine again.