That last bit came out in a pathetic warble. I know I’d just said, “Keep my chin up,” but there were limits, and mine were crashing hard into reality. It was easy to be brave when it was just me going through my daily routine, but saying these things out loud made them feel bigger and scarier. Unbeatable. Gods were supposed to help you deal with that, but mine just sighed.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” the DFZ said, leaning Dr. Kowalski’s dirty, wrinkled elbows on the desk she’d summoned from the garden bed. “I want to help, but you’ve shot down all my good ideas multiple times, and you don’t want to hear my bad ones.”
“You have more?” I asked eagerly, but the god waved her hand.
“I just said you don’t want to hear them.”
“Try me,” I urged. “I’ve made bad ideas work before, and I’m pretty desperate.”
The DFZ arched one of Dr. Kowalski’s bushy gray eyebrows at me. “I thought you didn’t even like your dad.”
“I don’t, that’s why I’m desperate. You think I like being trapped in my apartment with the monster I’ve fought my whole adult life to escape?” I shook my head. “Just because I’m not willing to throw him to his enemies doesn’t mean I want to be his nurse. The sooner he’s off death’s door, the sooner I can ship him back to Korea and out of my life.”
And make him pay all the bills I’d racked up saving his scaly bacon. My debts at the moment were all arguably Yong’s fault, and I intended to make him pay back every damn penny. It was the least he could do after putting me through all this, because I definitely wasn’t sheltering him out of the goodness of my heart. I’d thought that was obvious, but it must not have been clear to the DFZ, because the moment I said I wanted him gone, her face lit up like downtown on New Year’s Eve.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? If you just want him gone—”
“Gone from my apartment,” I clarified sharply. “Not gone from this mortal coil.”
“Of course, of course,” the god said flippantly. “But all this time I thought you were fretting over his well-being! If you just want him out of your life and you’re not picky about the how, you need to talk to the Spirit of Dragons!”
The blood drained from my face. I didn’t know much about the Spirit of Dragons, but what I’d heard wasn’t good. “Why would she help me?”
“She wouldn’t,” the DFZ said. “But she would help your dad. She has to, because he’s part of her domain. Just as I am bound to everyone who lives in my city, she’s bound to him. As an all-knowing spirit, she’s also already aware of his condition, so you wouldn’t even have to worry about his secret getting out! It’s perfect.”
It did sound pretty great, which made me nervous. “If she’s so perfect, why did you classify talking to her as a ‘bad idea’?”
“Because she’s a dragon and a god,” the DFZ said despairingly. “That combination creates a near-dysfunctional level of ego, unfortunately. But if anyone can help your dad, it’s her. She knows everything there is to know about dragons and their fire. We just have to get her attention.”
I still didn’t like it, but it wasn’t as if I had other options on the table. “How do we do that?”
“Same way you get any dragon’s attention,” my god said with a smirk. “Bribery. Copious amounts of it. Fortunately, I know what she likes best. Gimme a sec.”
The city spirit vanished, leaving Dr. Kowalski standing confused at the desk. “Huh,” my teacher said, looking down at the scattered leather-bound ledgers. “Is she done, or—”
Before she could finish the question, the god came back, taking over the old lady’s body again in an instant, only this time she was holding a plastic box full of something that rattled musically.
“Here,” the DFZ said, setting the crate down on the desk with a thunk. “This should be everything you’ll need.”
I rose nervously from my chair to take a look. Given that this was bribery for a dragon god, I was expecting piles of gold or severed heads, but the inside of the crate wasn’t glittery or grisly. It was filled with liquor bottles. There was rum, gin, tequila, whiskey, and a whole pack of those red plastic cups. Most surprising of all, though, was that none of it was expensive. Every dragon I knew wouldn’t touch something that wasn’t world-class, but there wasn’t a single handle of booze in the box better than mid-shelf. Some of it looked distinctly lower, and I bit my lip nervously.
“Are you sure this is what she wants?”
“Trust me, this will do the trick,” the DFZ said, handing me the crate, which was even heavier than I’d expected, and I’d braced for a lot. “Just take this to where your dad is, put out the cups, and start pouring libations. She’ll come. The Spirit of Dragons can’t stand to see good liquor go to waste.”
My rich-girl snob days were far behind me, but I still wouldn’t have called anything in the crate she’d handed me “good liquor.” “Hangover-in-a-box,” maybe, or “frat-house punch.” But gods were famous for
