Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
From the hills of Georgia to bustling London to beautiful Brussels, North was moving as quickly as he possibly could. Time was not on his side. He half expected one or both of his parents to jerk his leash at any second and demand he return from this foolish venture.
But if he could just find a dragon, prove to them it was all real. They ignored the magic, but they couldn’t ignore a dragon. Come on, it’s a dragon!
And if they finally faced the fact that magic and dragons were real, then they would have to face that he was destined for so much more than…concrete and their bland, black-and-white world.
Maybe it wasn’t just about proving it to them. Maybe he needed to believe it was all real, that he was destined for something more, something greater with this gift. If dragons did still exist, then he’d finally have the proof he needed to take that final step to break out on his own.
North shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the bite of cold in the air. He didn’t want to think about going back to Georgia or his parents’ determination to make him work at the family concrete company. Right now, his future stretched out in front of him in a sea of endless, unrelenting grey. Grey concrete, grey dust, grey rocks, and grey life.
Things were definitely not looking grey at that moment. He’d splurged on a metro ticket from the hotel into the city central and holy crap! It was worth every euro. This old city was decked out in her finest for the Christmas season. Twinkling fairy lights dripped from nearly every building, store fronts were filled with ornaments and elaborately decorated gingerbread, and the people—everyone was so nice and smiling.
Of course, those four years of Spanish he’d been forced to take in high school weren’t doing him a bit of good since the wonderful people of Belgium spoke French, German, and/or Dutch, but with it being Europe, he hadn’t needed to search too hard to find a kind soul who spoke English.
And no one seemed to bat an eye at a little lost, blond twink wearing a touch of make-up. Just to bring out his eyes. And maybe a hint across his cheekbones because they really were his best features.
Maybe if he didn’t find a dragon, he could just disappear into Brussels. He’d learn this town inside and out, welcome all the flustered tourists, and answer their questions like he’d been born in this place and not his strange little Georgia town. Or he’d learn to make chocolate or waffles. No, fries! Americans thought they had an obsession with fries. It was nothing compared to what he saw in Brussels.
Yes, he could be right at home in this colorful town of friendly people, good food, and exquisite old architecture.
Really, the dragons needed to come first.
Brussels was an excellent back-up plan, though.
North strolled along the tidy streets with the other tourists, pausing to snap pictures here and there on his phone. He wanted to remember everything about this place. His stop in London had been painfully brief and not included any sightseeing. Just hitting the ground, a cheap motel, a spell, and then he was on the next plane he could get to Belgium. He was not making that mistake here.
As he reached the Grand Place, his breath caught in his throat. This was unlike any town square he’d ever seen. Massive Christmas trees were set up in the center and glowed faintly with white lights against the bright sun in a pure blue sky. On either side of the square, tall buildings rose up shoulder to shoulder with stair-step gables, their gold filigree winking in the sun and highlighting the ornate touches. It was like stepping into a fairytale story. He half expected to see a prince and princess waltz through the center of the square, circled by singing bluebirds.
Okay, he needed to focus. Coffee and then he was going to find a travel agency. He’d talked to a worker at the central metro station, and they’d advised him to pop in any of the travel agencies for advice on which train to take into Munich and how best to get into the Alps. Apparently, they were best equipped to handle lost tourists working their way across the continent.
Tucking his wind-chilled hands into the pockets of his coat, North ambled through the square, pausing here and there to look at the handmade goods that filled the various stalls and sample all the delicious food. This almost felt like a vacation rather than a mission to save his future.
At a stall filled with delicate glass-blown ornaments, North caught sight of someone watching him. No, not just someone. He’d noticed this person when he’d gotten off the metro at the Central Station. The man in the black wool pea coat and charcoal grey knit hat had caught his attention, because he’d been the greyest and blandest-dressed person he’d seen since entering the city. Why was he watching North? Because he was a tourist? An easy target? This city was filled with tourists. He couldn’t be the easiest prey they could pick out.