“That was last month!!”
I shrug. “Still.”
The deal with the stone tower is this: Fablestone is hidden away. There are stone towers throughout the forest and some of them are used as meeting spots. You have to know where the stone towers are and you have to know when to be there, but if you go to the right one on the right night, you can seek safety and refuge. You can find hope. You can find safe passage to Fablestone.
“The stone tower is a good idea,” Cameron insists.
“What about the stone tower?” I ask him. “Why are you bringing it up?”
“I can’t make it.”
“I’m sure there won’t be anyone missing out.”
“I want you to go in my place,” he says.
That gets my attention.
“You want me to go to the stone tower and sit around all night in case someone comes seeking safe passage to Fablestone?”
“There could be shifters in trouble,” Cameron says, and he says it like he truly believes in this stuff. He says it like he’s really serious about people being able to find a refuge here.
“Why can’t you go?” I ask him.
He blushes. “Peggy and I…well…we’re trying for a baby, and she’s ovulating, so…”
“Say no more,” I hold up a hand. “I’ll go.”
“Really?”
“Anything for a friend,” I tell him, and I mean it, but it doesn’t change the way I feel. There is nothing I want to be doing less tomorrow night than going to the stone tower, but apparently, that’s where I’ll be.
What could possibly go wrong?
It’s not like I’m meeting any girls around Fablestone, and who knows?
Maybe I’ll find a fairy nymph to fall in love with or something.
Lee
I’ve been staring at the phone number in front of me for hours now, trying to work things out. Is there a coded message hiding in the numbers? Is it an actual phone number? Who is it registered to? While my technical skills are better than most, they’re still not enough to figure out who owns this number. I can’t even fucking determine if it’s a landline or a cell phone. Of course, it’s not 1983, so it’s probably a burner phone of some sort, but still. It bothers me that I can’t figure anything out regarding the number.
I don’t want to just call it blindly.
That sort of behavior is the type of thing that gets you killed.
Even if I can’t trace the fucking cell number, it doesn’t mean the people at the other end can’t trace me. If this is, indeed, a phone number from one of the Lucky scientists, I don’t want them raining down on Fablestone and destroying us.
I really wouldn’t be able to live with that.
So, I do what any self-respecting dragon shifter who needs answers would do.
I pack a bag and I prepare to leave.
I’ll only be gone for a day, at best, and a few days, at worst, so I bring a change of clothes, a toothbrush, some food, and my best laptop. I shove it all in a duffel bag, head outside, shift, and grab the bag with my talons before flying off.
My flight is smooth and easy, and when I arrive at the hidden cabin just outside of Storm Dawn, I find myself relaxing. No one knows I have this property out here. I bought it last year under a false identity, of course, and I use it sometimes when I need a break from clan life and dragon drama.
Today, I’m going to use it to fucking call this number and try to trace it as best I can.