The Dragon Guard (23 page)

“I see Magick,” he hissed in her ear.

“What?” She blinked at him, confused, torn between Henry and Trent. Her mother had her arm about Henry and was trying to sit him up.

“Magick!” he repeated hoarsely at her ear, her tangle of golden-brown hair muffling his words.

“No one here . . .” Bailey plowed to a halt. She beckoned her hands helplessly. “Jason said we couldn't. Not to help him or endanger ourselves.”

“I can see it!” Trent insisted. “If it's not us, then it has to be the Dark Hand.”

Clouds overhead crackled now, their stormy charcoal depths sparkling with levin fire, and they could hear the sound of lightning bolts sizzling past, without seeing them clearly, and then the low rumble of thunder danced about them. Someone screamed.

“Lightning!”

In panic, people began to clamber from the aluminum bleachers. Trent rose, to protect Bailey and her mom, and Henry, as they did. No rain struck his face, but the sky had gone storm black and he stood, waiting, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up like an angry dog's. He could feel, however, the hot splatter like sparks of Magick falling. Pure, malicious Magick, directed at them. Stef turned to Rich. Trent could see the heaviness on his face blur, his expression rippling as if he were underwater, and the current obscuring him. Had he begun to shape-shift? Not a chance, no, not here, not now! Could he see that Magick, too?

The players on the field lined up for the kickoff, seemingly unaware of the unnatural weather, or perhaps uncaring as the Chargers moved ahead by one goal and the Wolverines swore to get even.

“Shields,” Trent called out, knowing no one but themselves would understand. They were under attack!

He should have known that it was too much of a coincidence, too unusual, that all their families had decided on the same Sunday to be here and now. Everyone but Ting and her fragile grandmother was here. Bailey gripped her crystal. “Henry's fainted.”

“Shield Stef.”

“But—”

Trent tugged on her elbow. “Bailey, he's
shifting.
Shield Stef!” He drew her down the bleachers with him, through the crowd as people settled again, muttering, looking at the gathering storm.

Rich hurried Stef out of their row and onto the ground, behind the team benches. Trent could see the glow of crystal fire playing over both of them and knew Rich had sensed the same thing, and was trying to give Stef the control he needed to keep from morphing into the bear cub. Henry poured out of the bleachers like a wet noodle, still shaking and pale, barely able to stand, his crystal cupped in one fisted hand.

“It's like a . . . tug-of-war . . .” he managed, breathily, gasping for strength.

“What is?”

“They're pulling on me. We've got to . . . get out . . . of here!” Henry's eyes flickered, as if they might roll back in their sockets. Bailey threw an arm out to his shoulders to steady him.

Stef bleated. His bear voice rolled out of him, like a belch, and he turned desperately to Rich.

“Shields up, everyone, gather, and concentrate.”

“Everyone is watching!” hissed Bailey, but she did as Trent ordered.

A sharp whistle sounded the end of the game. They could hear the shouts and yells, some happy, some outraged, as the teams wheeled across the field and turned back to their benches. Jason came running toward them, his face decorated with an ear-to-ear grin of sheer joy that turned stark as he saw them.

Lightning crackled overhead. A piercing scream set the crowd to running, pushing and scrambling to get clear of the metal stands. Jason immediately gathered his own crystal, and the sky flared with the white-gold of its shield. His power hung over the spectators like an unearthly umbrella, raining tiny sparks. Trent thought of a glorious fireworks display, exploding, flowering, and then drizzling out of the night sky. Jason had power, more than any of them, and to spare.

But not enough.

Stef bawled and fell to the ground, rolling under the crowded bleachers. Rich and Trent immediately went to his side, without hope of hiding much. The bear cub reared on its haunches, shredding clothing about it as it stood and pawed at its nose, in bewilderment and ursine anger. In seconds, nothing was left of Stef. Rich inhaled deeply and dove at his shape-shifted friend, hitting him in the shoulder and bowling the bear cub over, knocking him under the benches and out of sight.

The sky opened up. Jonnard's laughing voice echoed over them, mocking their pain, as the screams of their friends, family, and teammates surrounded them. Lightning sizzled and struck within inches of them. They could feel the Magick dancing off their skins painfully.

“Hold on a bit longer,” Jason grunted. Sweat already darkened his jersey and smeared his hair to his head, and his arm trembled as though the weight of his crystal might be more than he could bear.

The roof of the sky became a field of lightning sparks. It exploded over and over, as if frustrated in reaching its targets on the ground. It drowned out the screams of the stampeding people getting out of the stands and to their cars, to safe places across the open field, away from those gathered in a closed circle and trying to protect them. Henry moaned softly and swayed on his feet. Then he gritted his teeth and said, “No!” as if arguing with someone.

One last lightning stroke blasted the edge of the bleachers with a deafening noise. The air stank with the melting of the aluminum. It ran white, and then melted into a blackened mess at the corner of it. The frightened bear cub let out a bawl of pain and terror, and crawled out from underneath, its fur singed, dragging Rich with it, his hand knotted in its hair. Into the crowd of fleeing people it bolted, Rich stumbling after his friend, yelling, “Stef! Come back!”

The duo raced with the crowd before veering away into the shrubbery and trees guarding the parklike edge of the soccer field. There was a loud noise, and one of the portapotty buildings toppled as the bear cub ran into it, full tilt. Rich shouted, “Stef! Leave the dog alone!” as if he could disguise what they were all seeing. Both boy and bear cub disappeared headlong into the shrubs.

Then, all went silent.

It lasted only a moment before Mrs. Olson cried, “What have you done to my son? What is that animal?”

“Just a stray dog,” muttered Trent, somewhat helplessly. Jason looked up, to the flashes of cameras, and to his stepsister's face as she lowered her camcorder, and saw the expressions on the faces of those few left who now began to draw near. They all of them had been exposed.
Film at Eleven
, he thought in despair.

“Oh, my,” said Bailey.

“
I
T'S a setup,” said Jason. He lowered his aching arm slowly, the light from his Shield dimming as he released the power. He couldn't explain the soaring feeling he'd experienced for a moment, the sense of another figure standing with him, strengthening him. He could name that figure, the lost wizard Gregory, whom he'd never met except for an occasional fleeting glimpse in the lavender crystal.

All he knew was, when he'd tapped for power, both of the crystals on his body had answered, even though he'd only held one. And now, that power was diminished. He felt very alone. The pearl-and-gold glow which had covered them like an umbrella faded as he did, then disappeared with a sharp snap of energy. The soccer field, nearly empty, suddenly drained of its menace. “We were totally set up,” Jason repeated.

“No kidding.” Trent spun around on one heel, surveying the area, looking for the Dark Hand. He saw no sign of them now as the unnatural electrical storm rolled back, clouds tearing to wispy shreds and dissipating. As quickly as it had been called, it seemed to be blowing apart. Rich bolted into the park grounds at the edge of the soccer field, hot on Stef's furry heels.

Henry muttered, “It's like a tug-of-war.” He rubbed his eyes, confused looking, unaware he'd been repeating that over and over.

Bailey rubbed his shoulder. “Stay together.” She moved closer, trying to use her body to shield Stef-cub from the sight of anyone still standing in the bleachers. The cub had lit out for the bushes, moving so quickly that it did look like a terrified big golden dog. Of course, nearly having been hit by lightning might have helped its speed, she thought, as the smell of burned hair stung her senses.

Jason realized from his heartbeats that only seconds had passed, though it felt much, much longer, as the remaining spectators came down from the bleachers, their attention fixed on them. Joanna stared at him, her face sheet white, one arm about Alicia's shoulders protectively while his stepsister held her camcorder to her chest as if someone might think of grabbing it away. McIntire's huge body seemed to frame them.

It's on tape
, Jason thought, his heart sinking.

“Nobody move,” called Trent's father, descending to the trampled earth at the foot of the stands.

“That's ball lightning that struck them, and they could still be charged with static electricity.”

Trent gave a lopsided grin, trading a look with Jason. Help where they hadn't expected any.

McIntire moved away from his wife and step-daughter. “It's like Saint Elmo's fire,” he agreed. “I've seen the same thing, Frank. Rare as hell but scary. Still . . .” he shrugged heavy shoulders and looked overhead. “Freak storm. You kids okay?”

Someone had been repeatedly letting out high yelps of terror and Jason finally got a look at who—Stefan's mother. She stood with her purse clutched tightly, her frizzled hair practically standing on end. “Where is Stefan! Vhat have you done with him?”

“We're fine. He went after that stray dog.” Jason cleared his throat uneasily.

“My boy!” Her hands went white-knuckle on her purse. “I saw no dog . . .”

“Liars. All of you, liars!”

Rebecca and Bailey both swung about, jaws dropping. Jerry Landau stood defiantly, camera in his hands. “It's witchcraft. I've got everything in pictures. The court's going to see everything!”

“Jerry,” said Rebecca with forced calmness. “I hope you haven't been drinking. What you think of me is one thing, but let's not do this in front of the kids.”

He shook his camera violently. “It's all on film! I've got all the evidence I need, and the court will get it first thing in the morning. You're not keeping Bailey.”

Rebecca answered grimly, “I have attorneys, too.”

“Oh, no, you don't,” muttered Bailey. Her hand, clutched around her crystal, started to swing up.

“No.” Jason caught her wrist, putting his body between her and her father. “Not here.”

Bailey shot him an angry look, then sighed. She lowered her arm but not before Jason could feel the emotion trembling through her body.

McIntire and Callahan both moved to frame Bailey's father. “I think,” said the Dozer slowly, “the kids have been through enough for one day, don't you?”

Trent's dad echoed with, “We need to find out who's been hurt and who's all right, first.” Frank Callahan's gaze swept across them, then, a slight puzzled look on his face which he quickly shed for a neutral expression.

“You're all either blind or crazy.” Jerry Landau swung about in a circle. “I know what I saw. So do you!”

The Wolverines defender who'd given Jason most of his trouble hung at the edges, listening, although most of his team had been hustled off the field as the storm had threatened. Frowning, he jerked his head toward his coach who also stood, watching. “Does that mean the game gets called? We won?”

“You lost, bud.” Trent straightened and his voice went deep with menace.

“Not if he's a witch or something. That would be cheating.”

The Wolverines coach suddenly looked as if he might be really interested. He nudged his player. “Don't hang around. Game's over. For now.” He trotted off in the direction of the van where two of the black-and-white started refs were standing, papers in their hands, nervously glancing up now and then at the sky.

Jason throttled down the anger he felt, hard words bitten back behind his clenched teeth as Landau started again. “I saw what I saw. You've made some kind of witch out of her, and I'm taking her back. I'll have her exorcised if I need to!”

McIntire moved with astonishing quickness for a big, hefty man. He stepped in, blocking and overshadowing Bailey's father. “I think it's time for you to leave.”

“It's a free country!”

“It's never been free for harassment. You've got a lawyer, let him handle it. Now get in your car and go before I call the police.”

Landau managed a gesture around McIntire. “This isn't the end of this!”

“No,” said Rebecca quietly. “I don't imagine so.” She watched as her ex-husband loped off the soccer field and disappeared into the parking lot. Moments later, a car peeled rubber.

McIntire rubbed his hands together and then reached for Joanna. “I'm sorry.”

Joanna shook visibly, but the color began to return to her face. She kissed his cheek gently. “Thanks for getting rid of him.” McIntire gave a satisfied rumbling which sounded almost like a purr. She said, in a dazed voice, “I don't know what I saw either.”

Alicia looked down at her camcorder and up at Jason. She said nothing, but he could see a glint in her eyes.

She knew she had it on film. And he knew it, too.

Jason took a deep breath, trying to think what he could do. Before an answer came to him, Frank Callahan suggested, “Isn't pizza the order of the day? After a victory like this?”

“I'm starving.”