Peter thought he knew what the old dragon meant.
"So what you're saying is that I could be right about Manson and that he could be immensely evil and dangerous, even though nobody else can see it."
"That's one way to put it I suppose," offered up the old dragon. "But perhaps you should expand your narrow way of thinking somewhat. Tank thought the butterfly was real, but it wasn't. What if this 'Manson' is not all that he appears to be? What if, like the butterfly, something much more sinister lies beneath?"
"Are you saying he could be a dragon?" asked Peter, wide-eyed.
Tank quickly butted in and said,
"But that's just not possible. They would both sense it if he were a dragon."
"Would they indeed...?" answered Gee Tee, with just the tiniest glint in his eyes. "If history teaches us anything, it's that you can always expect the unexpected, my naive apprentice. Dragons throughout the ages have hidden themselves before, and I don't doubt at some point they will do it again."
"Really?" gasped Peter, fascinated.
"Of course," added the shopkeeper. "It can be done. It's very difficult, but it can be done. Anyway, I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but I need Tank, I'm afraid. We have many more tomes to sort out, starting with the 'Mechanical Repairs' section, after you have shown your friend out," Gee Tee told Tank, before turning to face Peter.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, child. Consider yourself welcome any time. It's not like we're busy here or anything. I hope you sort out your little problem at work," he added, before bowing and heading back off into the twisted maze of dusty old bookcases.
Peter rose from his chair, having to wiggle about a bit to get his tail out of the hole, and followed his friend back through the shop, remembering to collect the remains of his human clothes. The two friends bade each other farewell, with Tank returning to work and Peter heading off to the monorail station, more suitably attired this time.
That night Peter sat in front of the television, trying to unwind. His visit to the Mantra Emporium had been absolutely fascinating in so many different ways. A tiny part of him envied Tank for working there, but not the bit about being transformed into a spider. Never that. Learning from Gee Tee that it was possible, however hard, for a dragon to conceal their dragon-ness was just breathtaking, and something that had never been mentioned at the nursery ring. Eventually heading upstairs just after ten, his head spinning every which way with thoughts from his astounding afternoon, before he nodded off, he vowed to himself to keep an open mind about... everything.
7
Security Sweep (Sooty or Sue?)
Peter went through his normal routine the next morning, deciding to send his consciousness off to get a copy of the Daily Telepath. He didn't get it every day, purely because he was too lazy, but today was important because the details of the Indigo Warriors' first Global Cup match should have been announced. Sending his mind off in a kind of autopilot way, it wasn't long before it had retrieved the paper and he was able to access it. The first page looked like this:
8
The Faint Whiff of... Octopus
Unable to concentrate on anything at all, Peter felt like he was in a constant daze. The first thing he'd done the following day was check the telepathic papers for details of Mark Hiscock's demise. Sure enough, in two of the more reputable editions he'd found obituaries for his deceased colleague. Holding with dragon custom, the funeral would take place exactly ten days after his death. Undoubtedly, dragons who'd known him would attend, probably from all across the globe. Peter would most certainly be going to not only that, but the human service as well.
Staff at Cropptech found it difficult to come to terms with Mark's death. Every time Peter ventured out to a different part of the site, he caught someone weeping or trying to conceal their puffy eyes from having just done so. It was a testament to just how popular a figure Mark had been in his role as Chief Security Co-ordinator. Over and over, Peter chastised himself for not realising just how ill his manager had been, and for not having visited him. He should have known something was up. It was rare that dragons get ill, even more so for it to be anything serious. He'd naturally assumed he was being treated by dragon physicians below ground, but hadn't actually checked to see if that was the case. Perhaps he should have. It had never actually occurred to him at the time to do so. Even more surprising was the fact that in dragon terms, Mark was relatively young, only 120 years old.
Peter's sour mood wasn't helped by having no outlet to let off steam. The hockey season had just finished, with very little else for the second team players planned until pre-season training, which was months away.
With the above ground funeral scheduled for Friday, many at Cropptech had contributed towards a fitting wreath, with the vast majority of the staff that had known him personally planning to attend. On his travels across the site, Peter had taken to eavesdropping with his dragon abilities. Possibly frowned upon by his dragon superiors, he justified it by telling himself that it was all about the security of the company, which was indeed why he was there in the first place.
Wandering around the day before the funeral, he started to notice a definite theme as he picked up on conversations between people: anger and confusion at just why Al Garrett hadn't appeared at this time of need. He'd always done so in the past, taking the initiative, offering the family any assistance they needed and always reassuring the staff in whatever way possible. But here and now, just when they needed him the most, he was nowhere to be seen. Worse still were the whispers centred around whether or not Garrett would attend the funeral. It was unthinkable really that this should be in doubt, given his kind and caring nature, but with his current odd behaviour, nobody was sure just what would happen.
Friday arrived, and after having crossed the crisp fresh grass from the car park to the chapel, Peter chose a seat in the very back pew, nodding at the staff he recognised as they came in. He tried to look unaware of what was going on, but even without his dragon senses, it was obvious everyone was looking to see if Garrett was there.
With the chapel full to bursting and Garrett nowhere to be seen, the vicar checked his watch, before reluctantly starting. Peter sat and listened to the kind words, all the time looking around at the others there, all in various states of emotional distress. There and then it brought home to him just how much deception was involved in a dragon's life. People here were genuinely upset at the death of a man they probably, in reality, never really knew, because at the end of the day he was a dragon. That in itself would have meant keeping numerous secrets as well as not revealing very much about his personality. And yet, with proof sitting all around Peter, he'd still made friends, lots of them, all sitting there grieving for him. Sitting there amongst them he felt confused, especially at the realisation that Mark's body wasn't actually here. His true body was being prepared for the underground service, many miles away. Clearly the dragon Council had more than a hand in this cunning deception. Yet more dragon lies. Where would it all end?
Following the queue of mourners outside, Peter found himself making small talk with those staff that he vaguely knew, aware the mood had turned from sadness to quiet contemplation. Staring out at the well maintained grounds, a tap on his shoulder surprised him. He turned to face a well dressed, middle aged gentleman whom he didn't recognise.