In the Shadow of the Dragon King Page 3

  “Impossible,” Charlotte said.

  “What? Didn’t you see it?”

  “Yes, but there has to be—”

  A limb in the giant oak tree above them groaned. David turned his face skyward as the branch splintered.

  “Get out of the way!” He shoved Charlotte into his neighbor’s yard, slipped on a patch of ice, and hit the sidewalk with a thud.

  “Ouch!”

  The wood missile plummeted toward the ground.

  “David, look out!”

  He rolled out of the way just as the limb hit the pavement.

  David swallowed, hard. His heart beat like a jackhammer.

  “Holy crap!” He stood and brushed the snow off his jeans.

  Deep laughter boomed from his left. “Sidewalk slide out from beneath you there, son?”

  Mr. Loudermilk from next door stood on the stoop of his house, his mouth twisted in a sadistic grin.

  Very funny, you nutter. David dusted himself off, frowning at the lanky old man’s brown plaid pants and purple striped shirt. His white hair was wilder than usual, standing on end like he’d rubbed his head with a hundred inflated latex balloons. His gaze fixed on David like a buzzard’s to fresh road kill. David’s insides gnarled. How the real-life Indiana Jones archeologist turned history teacher had turned into such a fruitcake he’d never know. It was if a switch turned off in his head toward the end of August and never turned back on.

  Whatever. It didn’t matter, so long as Mr. Loudermilk stayed on his side of the hedges, everything would be right with the world.

  David stood and pulled Charlotte up. “You okay? No bones broken?”

  She glanced up at the tree, then back down to the remnant blocking the sidewalk. “I don’t know about you, but that was a little too close for me.”

  “No kidding.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, a red flash caught David’s attention. The small figure darted across the lawn and around the backside of his house. “Holy crap, he’s in my yard!”

  David and Charlotte bolted over the limb and ran up the drive.

  “Geez, how does he move so fast?” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t know, but it’s getting away. Let’s go!”

  They took off together, rounding the mansion. The mini Flash Gordon disappeared into the forest.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!”

  David broke into a full run, his track training kicking in. He dashed past the greenhouse and the overseer’s cottage, leaping over fallen trees. Twigs and leaves crunched beneath his feet. Branches snapped. Birds took flight. Charlotte yelled for him to stop, but he kept running, the cold air burning his nose and throat.

  To the north, he made out the Antylles River rushing toward Lake Sturtle. A flash of red zoomed off to his right. David turned, zigzagging past trees, leaping over boulders. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cold stinging his skin. He shed his coat, leaving it on the ground behind him. The trickle of a creek grew closer. He ran, faster, faster, until he reached the embankment of Wilder Creek. Out of breath, he pressed his palms to his knees and scanned the forest. On the opposite embankment stood a young doe, alert and unsure, her ears twitching. A rabbit darted off to his right. A squirrel scampered up a tree. Charlotte rushed up behind him and hunched over, out of breath and holding her side.

  “Did—you—not—hear—me?” She staggered forward. “I—called to you—”

  Behind David came a sound akin to hundreds of spiders crashing through the underbrush. David turned as a reddish-brown blur no more than three feet high barreled toward him at lightning speed.

  “David! Move!”

  Charlotte shoved David, knocking him several feet back. He tumbled to the ground with an oomph.

  And then she was gone.

  “Noooo!” Charlotte screamed in one long, sustained note as the creature carried her off. Her voice grew further away. “Daaa-viiid!”

  David scrambled to his feet and half-ran, half-slid down the slippery slope and across the rope bridge toward her voice, his heart racing, and his throat burning. “I’m coming, Char!”

  She screamed from the darkness of the old gristmill ruins. David vaulted over fallen trees and slipped as he swerved around a corner. Down he went, careening to the bottom of the creek. Covered in muck, he darted around the dilapidated water wheel, feeling along the vine-covered walls of the mill until his fingers found an opening. Charlotte sat inside in a heap against the wall.

  “Char!” David skidded to a stop beside her, panting. “Char, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She grimaced as she pulled her left leg to her chest.

  “Which way did he go?”

  Charlotte pointed to her right. “The doorway. I’m sure he’s gone by now.” Her hand clasped around his wrist as he jerked to leave. “He’s gone. Don’t bother going after him.”

  David collapsed beside her, counting backward from ten in his head to calm his pulse. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “No. He moved so fast. Everything was all a blur. He had a very distinct voice, though. Scottish or Irish, I think.”

  David leaned forward, his arms perched on his drawn-up knees. “He spoke to you?”

  “Not me, I don’t think.” Charlotte lifted her hip to one side and withdrew a broken brick from beneath her, then tossed it across the room blanketed in dead vegetation. “It was more like he was angry at himself for failing to get you. He said the strangest word that sounded like ‘Figbiggin,’ followed by a very angry, ‘Missed!’ Then he dumped me here and took off.”

  David laid his forehead on his arms folded across his knees. “Who is he? What does he want with me? I don’t understand.”

  “Me, either.”

  The Star Wars Imperial March blasted from Charlotte’s coat pocket. “Oh, geez! Not now.” She answered, her tone a bit terse. “Hi, Daddy—at David’s—but I’m not hungry—but— okay, fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She hung up and turned to David. “Sorry. I have to go. We have to do the ritualistic Saturday morning breakfast thing with my aunt and uncle. Are you going to be okay? You want me to see if you can come along?”

  David shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. Let’s get you home.”

  They hiked back the way they came, and down the street to Charlotte’s small brick house nestled in a bevy of bare dogwood trees at the bottom of a gentle slope. A birdbath surrounded by mangled, winter-ravaged flowers stood in the front yard. A maroon SUV sat in the driveway. A tall man with square shoulders and a jawline to match opened the driver door and got out. He wore that I’m-retired-military-and-you-better-not-mess-with-my-daughter look.

  Yeah, that one.

  David gulped.

  “What took you so long?” Mr. Stine said, “and why are you such a mess?”

  David jumped in. “It’s my fault, sir. I suggested we take a walk down to the old grist mill and we sort of fell.”

  “Um-hmm,” Mr. Stine said, he steely eyes pinned to David. “And you just happened to fall on my daughter in the mud?”

  “Yes, sir, I mean no, sir. I mean I did, but not on purpose, sir.” Damn, why couldn’t he shut up?

  “Daddy, leave him alone, Charlotte said. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” She pecked David on the cheek. “I’ll come over as soon as I get back.” She cast her dad a look, then ran into the house. David turned to head home.

  “That’s my little girl, there, young man,” Mr. Stine said. “You disrespect her in any way, and you’ll have me to deal with.”

  David gulped. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  His stomach fluttered. How, after all the years he’d been friends with Charlotte, was her father still able to set his nerves on edge? David trudged home, his nerves like a bundle of fireworks ready to explode. He headed up his driveway, his eyes darting about, taking in the gargantuan three-story Civil War mansion with black shutters and more massive white co
lumns than a house deserved.

  His stomach knotted, as it often did, at the sight of his house—so grand, so majestic, and yet so empty. His wish to have a typical family like Charlotte’s was nothing more than a dream. He wished for it anyway, and then chuckled at the absurdity of it all. He wasn’t a child anymore. The days of bargaining with God to bring back his parents were gone. After all, God didn’t negotiate. Dead was dead.

  David climbed the steps of the porch and went inside, the heavy doors closing behind him. An ivory-colored envelope skittered across the floor in a slight undercurrent and came to rest at the curled feet of an antique side table. He picked up the crinkled parchment and read the single name written in sprawling calligraphy across the front.

  Lysbeth Perish.

  Weird.

  The unmistakable aroma of brewed coffee enticed him down the long corridor beneath the double staircase toward the rear of the house. The morning news droned from the flat screen above the stone fireplace in the family room. Muted daylight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the manicured backyard and greenhouse. He tossed the letter on the breakfast bar as Lily pushed through the pantry door carrying a bag of potatoes. She glanced at him and set her load in the sink.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  David set his bow and arrow beside the fireplace and took a seat at the breakfast bar.

  Lily twisted her thick cherry hair with both hands and tacked it to the back of her head with a clip. How the weight of those locks didn’t tilt her off-balance, David never figured out. She poured a cup of coffee. “So, what’s with the bow?”

  David considered telling her about the speedy man for a moment but then changed his mind. There was no way she’d believe such a story.

  “Nothing. I thought I’d go out and practice later.”

  Lily raised one eyebrow and remotely turned off the television. “With one arrow?”

  David poured a cup of coffee. “Less to lose, I suppose.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lily said. “Why was Charlotte here?”

  David’s stomach lurched. Do those funky turquoise eyes see everything? “No reason. We were just talking.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “Talking? It sounded like a half dozen bowling balls thudding down the stairs.”

  “Sorry. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I’m not asking for an apology, honey, just some consideration. I was up late last night.”

  “Someone have a baby?”

  Lily rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Yes. The Padgetts. A little girl, around 3:30 this morning.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Lily smiled and tousled his hair. “It’s all right. I needed to get up anyway. I have to run into town a little later and pick up some supplies from the hardware store. We’re due for a bad snowstorm in a couple of days, and I want to be prepared. Which reminds me, when you’re done with breakfast and target practice or whatever it is you’re really doing with that bow and one arrow, I’d like you bring up some firewood from the shed, and start taking down the Christmas decorations.”

  David rolled his eyes.

  “I saw that, young man.” Lily stood. “Tomorrow is the last day of winter break, and I need the bulk of the decorations down before you go back to school. You promised.”

  “Ah, come on, Lily,” David said. “Why not hire some people to do it? It’s not like we can’t afford full-time staff to help with this sort of thing. Everyone knows there are tons of people out there who need a job. We’d be doing humanity a great service.”

  “As a part of humanity, you need to learn responsibility, David. You can’t go through life thinking the world owes you any favors because of who you are or what you have. Trust me. It’s not going to hurt you to do the few things I ask. Lily poured a glass of orange juice and slid it his way. “Tell you what, why don’t you invite some friends over and make a party out of it. I’ll pick up some sodas while I’m out. You can order pizza.”

  David buried his head in his arms folded on the counter. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “So, what is this?” Lily slid the envelope toward herself, the sound grating in David’s ears. He lifted his head as she flipped the envelope over from one side to the other. Her brow furrowed. “This is rather cryptic. No return address. No stamp.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Recognize the writing?”

  “No, not at all. That’s what makes it more intriguing, eh?”

  Lily smiled at him, winked, and ripped open the envelope, withdrawing a single page from inside. Her fingers touched her lips. The color drained from her face.

  David stiffened. “Lily? What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and folded the letter in half. “Nothing.” Her voice trembled. “Just some unexpected news, that’s all.” She shimmied around the bar and hurried down the hall toward the foyer. David followed her to the library, but the stained glass doors shut and locked in his face.

  He jiggled the door handle. “Lily, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” He could hear her scurrying around inside. He banged on the door. “Lily!”

  A few minutes later the door opened, and Lily headed back to the kitchen, her lips stretched into a fine line, her hands empty.

  “Hey,” David said, following on her heels. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I need to take your car.” She collected her coat, purse, and gloves from the coat rack. “The heat in my car is out again.”

  “Sure. You want me to come with?”

  She opened the back door and took his keys from the rack. “No.”

  “But—”

  His protest fell on a closed door.

  The rumble of his 1967 Shelby fastback filled his ears. David ran to the front door and watched the black Mustang pass through the gates and disappear. He turned to the library. What is she hiding in there?

  He pushed open the double doors and stepped into the room rich in leather furnishings and mahogany bookshelves jammed with books. Some were so old he was afraid to touch them for fear they would disintegrate in his hands. With a push of a button on the wall, red velvet drapes, both upstairs and down, slid open, exposing a wall of windows stacked two stories high. Sunlight warmed the oiled portraits on the walls. David straightened the baseball cap on the suit of armor and wove around the plush wingback chairs to the antique desk carved with mermen, tritons, and sea creatures.

  “All right. Think. If I were a mysterious letter, where would Lily hide me?”

  David rummaged through the drawers and papers. Nothing. He panned the room, honing in on a small, curl-footed, single-drawer table tucked into an alcove under the spiral staircase. He hurried across the room and gave it a quick tug. Locked.

  David bit the corner of his lip then snapped his fingers. He bolted upstairs to Lily’s office, and from a hook inside a door hidden by a mirror in the closet, he grabbed an antique key ring heavy with brass keys and returned to the library. One after the other he tried them in the lock. The next to the last one popped the drawer open. David reached inside and withdrew a necklace with a heart-shaped lapis pendant, a small, dark-blue leather jewelry box, and the crinkled envelope. His stomach flip-flopped.

  He turned the necklace over in his palm. “Why would she leave this? She never takes this off.” He set it down on the table and picked up the box. The voice from the dream returned.

  Your time is nigh. Be brave.

  He cast aside the voice and flipped open the box. A black sickness filled his stomach. “What the hell?”

  Perched inside upon a bed of dark blue velvet sat a man’s ring. A wide band of intricate scrolled silver held a dime-size lapis lazuli stone. Carved in its center was an eagle, its wings spread, perched on the head of a bull standing on its hind legs.

  His gut lurched as if missing a step going downstairs. That’s my tattoo! He touched his fingers to his chest.

  An overwhelming ache, an intense desire, drew h
im toward the ring. He needed it, craved it like a junkie needs a fix. He bit his bottom lip and drummed his fingers on his thighs trying hard to ignore it, but the pull grew stronger, more intense as if drawn by a magnetic force. Unable to resist, David slipped the ring on the forefinger of his right hand.

  A searing pain, like his skin being scorched from the inside out, shot like an arrow up his arm and hurled into the tattoo. David staggered forward, his hand clutched to his chest. He fell to the floor, upending a small table, and gasped for breath. Sweat poured from his brow. In the mirror over the fireplace, he caught a glimpse of himself and the blue glow beneath his clothes. He ripped off his sweatshirt. Both the ring and tattoo blazed an ice blue, two objects shimmering as one. The tattoo sank deeper into his skin, burning like a branding iron.

  “Ahhhh! Make it stop!”

  David bent in half, begging, crying for the pain to leave him. After what seemed an eternity, it subsided and let him go. He crawled to the table, snatched the letter and Lily’s necklace, and then collapsed into the closest overstuffed chair.

  Time passed with the speed of a turtle pushing a rock uphill. Question after question exploded across his tattered mind.

  Breathless, David sat forward and withdrew the page from the crumpled envelope. Waves of nausea overtook him as the words reached into his subconscious, grabbing something he’d always felt was there but was never quite able to touch.

  My dearest Lysbeth,

  Please forgive my quick hand, but time is short, and the danger here grows stronger every day. It is difficult to recognize friend from foe, and I grow more convinced as time passes that Fallhollow sits on the brink of collapse. There are rumors that the Council is ready to turn elsewhere for our salvation. The thought torments me, for as much as his father and I wish to see our son, it pains me to think of David here, forced into the Council’s servitude. The risk to his life is too great, yet I am no fool. It is inevitable. His time in Havendale is drawing to a close. Until the time he must leave, please keep him safe and sheltered in your love.

  With deep affection.

  There was no signature.

  The words zoomed away from him, receding into a long black tunnel. His lips and hands trembled. The letter floated to the floor. His phone rang. He answered without speaking.