arboreal_priestess | The Davidson-Morrissey Memorial Dance Hall, Verity's Baltimore, Thursday Morning

It was nine-thirty in the morning and Verity--or, rather, the red-haired Valerie Pryor, who had never lived on a crazy island and couldn't even fathom the idea that monsters existed--was trying not to freeze to death in a dress consisting entirely of fringe, sequins, strategically-placed strips of lace, and even more strategically-placed pieces of double-sided tape. The hall rented for the Maryland State Argentinian Tango Open was packed to the point of comedy, but even all the bodies jostling together weren't enough to keep it warm, especially up here on the stage where the crowds of the hall itself had given way to just the ten couples of group seventeen.

Well, nine couples and 'Valerie'. Her partner, James, was nowhere to be seen. She had seen him earlier in the hall, talking to his boyfriend, but that had been soon after he'd arrived and checked in, so well over two hours ago. After that, he'd been swallowed up by the crowds, not that Verity had been worried. This event had a two hundred dollar non-refundable buy-in and the top twenty would be going to regionals and she trusted James to have his priorities in order.

But now with the judges saying, "Positions, please," through the speakers, Verity was starting to worry. Couples entered as couples, and there were no substitutions allowed once the event program had been printed. There definitely weren't any substitutions allowed after you were on the floor.

The other nine couples had fallen into ready position, leaving her all-too-visibly alone in the middle of the floor. She barely managed to keep from wincing as the speakers clicked on again. "Number one hundred eighty-four, please join your partner."

Verity	Verity scanned the floor again, looking for James. If she didn't find him in the next few seconds, she'd be disqualified by default. She couldn't afford to lose the entry fee. More importantly, she couldn't afford to lose the shot at the regional competition. She needed that title. Still no James. Verity took a step backward, anticipating the instruction to leave the floor, and stopped as her shoulders bumped up against a man’s chest. "James," she sighed, utterly relieved. Her arms automatically raised to form the proper frame as she turned.
Dominic	"If you like," Dominic replied, catching her right hand and pulling her into a tango stance.
Verity	Verity gaped at him, but there was no time to argue. The music was already starting. Instinct was the only thing that saved her, relaxing her shoulders as her back straightened, pulling her into the correct posture. With no more fanfare than that, the dance began.
Dominic	Dominic was aware that he was not making an ally of the Price woman by interrupting her silly dance audition, but his information was far too important to wait. "I have been looking for you," Dominic whispered, in response to the fulminating glare in her eyes. Luckily for her, he was a passable at the tango and was attempting to remember the steps as they spoke, pushing her into a half-turn before yanking her back. "This seemed like the best way to catch up."
Verity	Oddly enough, Verity didn't seem all the appreciative of Dominic's attempts at dancing. "You could have called," she snapped. A little too loudly--one of the neighboring couples glanced in their direction, forcing her to move in even closer as she stage-whispered, "You had my number. Now where the hell is my partner?" She'd get to whatever was so important that he had to come in and ruin her audition in a moment, but James was a friend as well as a partner and now she had to make sure Dominic hadn't added a bit of light murder to his agenda for the day.
Dominic	"The 'gentleman' with whom you were prepared to perform this parody of dance is currently indisposed." He sneered the word gentleman to make it clear to Verity what he thought of her choice of non-human partner. He glanced down as Verity jerked back, only barely managing to make the movement appear graceful. Her hand twitched and while he wasn't sure how or where, he was certain she had weapons tucked somewhere in that ridiculous costume. "I did not kill him," Dominic looked down his nose at her. "I assumed it would upset you, and endanger our working relationship. He'll wake up in an hour or so."
Verity	There was no possible way to salvage the competition. Even bribing the judges and claiming James had suffered some sort of unexpected medical emergency (one which happened to mysteriously clear up in time for us to join the final group) wouldn't do it after she'd shown up on the floor with another man. It was going to look like they'd tried to pull a bait and switch. Worst of all, it hadn't even resulted in her appearing with a better partner. Dominic was a decent tango dancer--that was clear from his posture and footwork--but he'd just as clearly never danced the Argentine tango in his life. There went her two hundred dollars. There went her shot at regionals. There went one of the last chances of proving that she could make it as a dancer. "You could have called," she hissed again, teeth unsettlingly close to his ear as she danced. He flinched slightly. Good. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Dominic	"That I should refuse the discussion of serious business matters over an unsecured phone line?" Dominic asked, chest puffing. "I'm sure I don't know, but I hope it's never corrected." Unprofessional. Unbelievable. She would rather stand here, dancing away the morning with a chupacabra of all creatures, and had the gall to demand why he wasn't conforming to her schedule.
Verity	"That's it," she snarled. She pulled back and mimicked the beginning of a partner-assisted spin before shouting in mock-pain and dropping down to clutch at my left ankle. Looks were cast in their direction by the other dancers, some sympathetic, some openly and maliciously pleased. One fewer couple in the competition meant one step closer to victory. Cold math, but as Sarah was so fond of telling her, numbers didn't lie. Everything else does, but numbers? Never. Dominic stared at Verity, actually looking concerned as he stooped to kneel on the floor. "Help me out of here," she whispered, under pained expressions and small whimpers. Taking help, even fake help, from a member of the Covenant rankled, but it was necessary if she wanted her 'injury' to seem realistic. Leaning heavily on the arm he offered for support, she limped out of the tango competition with her head held high and entirely real tears shining in her eyes. So much for making it to Regionals.
Dominic	"Have you twisted it?" Dominic asked, trying to support her as she hobbled towards the coat check. "Those shoes you're wearing--"
Verity	"Are appropriate for the occasion," Verity snapped, reclaiming her duffel bag and coat. The nature of her disguise meant she couldn't go from Valerie to Verity in the dance hall bathroom. She had to go next door to an entirely different building to change back from her alter-ego. Just a few more yards and the wig could come off and she could stab him with one of the 'decorative' hair sticks carved from blessed cherrywood, soaked in holy water for three months, and tipped in silver. It would almost be poetic, Dominic getting murdered by a weapon designed to kill monsters.
Dominic	Dominic trailed behind her, looking puzzled. His look of puzzlement grew deeper when she stomped out of the dance hall, limp fading with every step she took away from the doors. "You were faking?" he demanded. "How could you be faking?"
Verity	"You thought coldcocking my partner and stuffing him--where the hell did you stuff him?" Verity snapped. Dominic glanced away. "A storage closet." "Right. You thought coldcocking my partner and stuffing him into a storage closet before crashing my dance competition was less risky than picking up a damn phone and saying, 'Hey, want to talk to you about all the dead stuff in the city'? You're crazy!" Verity started walking faster. "Certifiably crazy. And you owe me a refund on my entry fee. That's two hundred dollars!" Maybe the Covenant offered an expense account, which would almost--no. Nothing would make this lost opportunity worth it.
Dominic	"My apologies if I thought the threat we may be facing was more important than your little diversions," Dominic scoffed.
Verity	Something inside of her snapped. She'd put up with sidelong looks and subtly disapproving comments from her family for years. Getting outright disdain from a member of the Covenant of St. George was the last straw. Verity wheeled on him, jabbing a finger straight at the center of his chest. "Look, asshole, dancing is not a little diversion. It's my life, you got that? You had no right to track me down like this, and you really had no right to intrude. You don't approve of my life? Well, screw you! At least I have one." She turned and headed into a building. "Let's go."
Dominic	"What?" Dominic's expression turned from nonplussed from her outburst to outright wary. The Price woman looked about angry enough to shove his body into the nearest dumpster and calling some ghouls to finish the job.
Verity	...He wasn't wrong. "You've fucked up my day, you've fucked up my chance to qualify for the next big competition, and you may have fucked up my cover. You're not getting out of here without telling me what you came here to tell me. Now come on." Verity was belatedly starting to realize that the last of the items on that list was the one that represented the real danger. He'd blown her cover. A member of the Covenant knew that Valerie Pryor was actually Verity Price in insufficiently concealing clothing. Depending on what happened next, he might not have disqualified her from a single competition; he might well have disqualified her from her entire career. It was a horrific thing to even think about, but if Dominic De Luca wanted to, he could make certain she'd never dance professionally again. She didn't actually want to kill him, anger aside, but it was looking increasingly likely that she wasn't going to have a choice.
Dominic	They entered the building through the back door of a greasy spoon that stank like a hundred years of deep-fried dinners. Dominic hesitated when he saw the kitchen, but Verity grabbed his jacket sleeve, dragging him deeper in. The fry cook on duty was a hulking shape in dirty whites, his back to them as he chopped some unidentifiable cut of meat into smaller and smaller chunks. Verity offered a greeting and the cook grunted, waving them on. Dominic picked up the pace slightly, drawing close enough to hiss, "Is he--?!"
Verity	"Wouldn't you like to know?" Verity shoved open a door at the back of the kitchen, revealing a rickety flight of stairs leading to the storage rooms overhead. She took the steps two at a time, focusing her anger on the difficult task of not punching her five-inch heels through the half-rotten wood. It helped, a little. If she was thinking about not puncturing things with her shoes, she wasn't thinking about how easy it would be to impale Dominic with them. He managed to stay quiet until we reached the second floor. The hallway was choked off with boxes of old newspapers and stacks of dishes retired after they became too chipped for even the establishment downstairs. She wove between them, careful to keep from triggering an avalanche. Dominic wasn't so lucky. There was a shattering crash, followed by the sound of him swearing in loud, enthusiastic Italian. "Keep walking," she said, in a singsong tone. "I need to change." She looked back over her shoulder, smiling sweetly. "If you'd called, you wouldn't be following me into the place where dishes go to die. Think about that the next time you decide to mess with my competition schedule."
Dominic	"Because God forbid something gets in the way of your dancing," he sneered, attempting to navigate the hallway and catch up to her. More crashes and clattering punctuated his progress. She had gone through the nearest door, storming into what turned out to be a mostly-empty storage room. And there she was, standing in the middle of the floor, wriggling her way out of a dress that was closer to a belt with delusions of grandeur. Dominic had time to see a lot of skin--and a profusion of weapons--before he gasped and turned around. "You...ahhh..." he stammered, eyes darting around like he wasn't sure where he should look before settling on the red wig at her feet. "You dance with a gun at your back?"
Verity	"Wouldn't you?" Verity crouched to start digging through her duffel bag, producing a plastic baggie full of Ace bandages. Wrapping was pretty standard after a competition--it helped to keep Verity from injuring herself when she inevitably went running across the rooftops to burn off all her extra adrenaline. Plus, a nice layer of Ace bandage counted as at least minimal armor, which was always nice. Normally, she would have stayed low while she wrapped her ankles and knees, but she didn't feel like doing Dominic any favors. She stretched her left leg into a full extension instead, staying balanced on the right as she started winding bandages around her knee. "Worst thing about the Argentine tango: you can't fit more than a few weapons under your costume without it getting really obvious. The waltz is better. You can hide a regulation machete under a waltz costume."
Dominic	"Er, yes. Of course." Wow. That wig sure was fascinating. He was just going to keep his eyes trained on that and not on anything she was doing. With her legs, yes. "I suppose you'd like to know why I felt the need to seek you out." Verity muttered something that sounded like 'pompous ass' but he had no intentions of looking up to check. "I believe I've discovered the reason for the local disappearances." He sounded a bit more sure of himself as he made the pronouncement, some of his usual confidence coming back into his voice. He understood making dire pronouncements. Apparently better than he understood semi-naked, highly flexible women. "I've been examining the Covenant's records on this area going back several hundred years and..." He paused portentously, pulling his eyes away from the wig to watch Verity's reaction. She was still standing on one leg, wrapping the other with bandages, obviously impatient for him to continue. "I believe there is a dragon sleeping under this city."
Verity	Honestly, Verity couldn't even blame him for looking because her reaction was worth it. One second, she was standing with her leg fully extended, the next, she was flat on her ass, hand nearly going through a small rotten patch on the floor. "A dragon," she repeated, sounding dazed. "You really think there's a dragon under the city?" Dominic nodded, not able to keep the superior smile from his face. "There’s one major problem with your 'solution,'" she said. "Dragons are extinct. The Covenant wiped them out centuries ago."
Dominic	Dominic favored her with a look of withering disdain. "Did we?"
Verity	"Hello, not the one who writes the propaganda, remember?" Verity said, pushing herself back upright. "But, yeah, according to everything I've ever read and everyone I've ever talked to, human or cryptid." If the dragons were still alive, the dragon princesses would know about it--they'd have to know, since all the old bestiaries claimed that the two species lived in a sort of symbiosis. If there were still dragons, the dragon princesses probably wouldn't be working in strip clubs and living in neighborhoods just this side of demilitarized zones.
Dominic	"Nonetheless, it seems that a few may have escaped extermination."
Verity	Verity looked up from securing her ankle holster, fixing him with a disgusted stare. "Here's a tip: wiping out a sentient species isn't 'extermination.' It's genocide. Get your terminology straight." Dominic opened his mouth to reply and she cut him off, already knowing what his argument would be. It was the same stale one the Covenant always trotted out. "Yes, dragons fed on humans--when humans went into their caves to steal their stuff! If the dragons had been from Texas, they would've gotten awards from the homeowners' association, not a gang of medieval vigilantes looking to skin their asses."
Dominic	Dominic looked at her blankly. "What does Texas have to do with anything?"
Verity	"Wow, they didn't give you any cultural acclimatization before they dropped you here, did they? Did the Covenant want you to get eaten?" Not that Verity could blame them, exactly. "Okay, so fine, let's assume you're right, and everything we thought we knew is wrong, and there's a dragon sleeping somewhere under the city of Baltimore, for fuck's sake." She paused as something occurred to her. "Not the entire city, or even a district, right? Just a few blocks or something? Because I don't think I'm equipped to deal with a dragon that's actually the size of a city." A dragon the size of Baltimore was too much to think about, especially if there was a chance it was hostile. The old family story about Grandma taking on an entire hive of Apraxis wasps with nothing but some concussion grenades aside, the Prices were taught never to go up against impossible odds if there was any other choice.
Dominic	"Not the entire city," said Dominic. He paused, a discomfited look crossing his face. It was an odd expression on him, softening his features from their usual perpetual arrogance and turning them into something almost like a normal human. "At least, I don't believe so. The largest recorded dragon was no larger than a blue whale."
Verity	"I probably shouldn't find that as reassuring as I do." Verity picked up her bag and started digging through it for her phone. "So we're assuming there's a dragon. I don't want you calling reinforcements, since they'd just wipe out the cryptids I'm trying to protect, and I'll bet you don't want me calling reinforcements either."
Dominic	"Not particularly," he said, his normal arrogance creeping across his face like frost across a window on a cold morning. "Though you're already on the phone so I can see it's a moot point."
Verity	"Oh hush," she said, pushing past him towards the door. "I'm calling Liam--or would you really rather deal with just me while we try to figure out if there's a dragon stashed away around the docks or something?"
Dominic	"Oh," Dominic said, belatedly turning to follow Verity out. "By all means, please contact him. He's at least sane." Apart from being romantically involved with a Price girl, at any rate. "At least, he doesn't treat gravity as a suggestion to be ignored."
Verity	"Everybody's a critic," Verity sighed as the phone connected. "Hey Liam? It's Verity. Yeah, I know it's a lot earlier than when I said I'd be out, but it's been an interesting morning..."