Hydra (9 page)

Still, I prefer to work out all the kinks ahead of time.

When we’re done discussing preparations, Mom asks, “You’re sure you don’t want to wait for your sisters to get back so you can tell them goodbye?”

“Who knows when that will be? I’m not going to interrupt their fun.” I don’t say it out loud, but I want my sisters to enjoy their time with the Sheehy brothers, even if they aren’t dragons. They don’t need to be distracted by my plans. “Anyway, I’ll be back in a few days. Everything’s going to be fine.”

My mother nods solemnly. I can tell she’s trying to keep it together, but she’s scared for me. I give her a big hug. “We’ll be fine, mom. I’m doing this to make the world a safer place for dragons. You understand?”

“Yes. I’m proud of you for facing your fears. I just wish…”

“Hmm?”

“I wish it wasn’t so dangerous.”

Rather than allowing myself to think about the danger, I turn to Ed. “You’re all ready?”

“Aye.”

I turn to my mother and peel off the fluffy white terrycloth robe I’ve been wearing, which I borrowed from my en suite bathroom. Underneath it, I’ve got on the clothes my mother designed for us girls to wear when we transform into dragons. See, we grow and change shape so dramatically that most clothes get ripped to shreds in the process, which isn’t a huge deal, except that when we change back, we’re naked, which is almost always awkward.

But considering that our dragon waists stay pretty tiny (though our dragon hips get enormous) my mom designed these pleated skirts with elastic waists that keep us covered when we’re human but don’t bust off or get in the way when we’re dragons. Mine’s a deep red color, to match my dragon scales.

The top part of our bodies is trickier to fit. We sprout wings from our shoulder blades, which is why backpacks stay on as long as the straps can adjust to accommodate our growth. Taking advantage of that, my mom created racer back tops made from really stretchy material, with adjustable straps that slide wider instead of snapping to bits when we grow. The only trick is, we have to slide them back to a short setting when we turn back to humans, but that’s a far cry handier than being completely naked.

I turn back toward Ed. He’s averting his eyes politely, but at the same time, he’s fighting back a smile that says he got enough of a glimpse of me to realize he likes what he saw.

While this might make me feel self-conscious, I actually find it flattering, especially when you consider Ed’s hundreds of years old and spends part of his time in a lake, where people actually go swimming, never mind that it’s crazy cold. So I’m sure he’s seen enough scantily-clad women over the years that it ought to take more than a little skin to impress him. And besides that, I’ve seen him several times now without his shirt on, and quite appreciated the view, so I suppose it’s only fair.

But now is not the time to worry about any of that. I pull myself up, straightening, stretching, growing, taking care not to bump into Ed or my mother as my wings sprout widely and my body swells. When I turn to Ed in full dragon form, he’s grinning with a smile he doesn’t bother to hide.

I dip my head to look him in the eye, though my head is now far larger than his, and my eyes set more on the sides of my head than the front, which is great for getting a wide-angled view, spotting predators approaching from any direction, or scanning the horizon, but makes me look cross-eyed whenever I focus on anything straight in front of me.

Ed places one gnarled hand on the bridge of my dragon nose. “Yer beautiful,” he says, with true awe and appreciation in his voice.

I’ve never once wondered whether I’m beautiful as a dragon. Very few people have ever seen me as such, anyway, and none have bothered to comment until now. But I feel a rush of warmth at Ed’s words and the sincerity behind them. I’m horned, scaly, reptilian—pretty dang terrifying, by most measures.

And to Ed, I’m beautiful.

I crouch low and he climbs on my back. My mom, who’s carried people on her back before, as well as ridden on my dad’s shoulders before she learned how to change into a dragon herself, gives Ed some tips for holding on, staying close to minimize drag, and generally making it easier for me to haul him through the sky.

Then I clamber up onto a sturdy parapet and take off with a leap, wings outstretched.

Oh, wow.

Ed is heavy.

I know he mentioned that before and I dismissed his concerns, but the man is sincerely substantial. I happen to know, being a dragon myself, that even when we’re in human form, we’re unusually dense. It’s like all those muscles and fibers that expand to make a dragon are compressed inside our human bodies.

And when you consider how big Ed is, even without the compression factor…well, he’s heavy.

I feel the strain immediately, and have to beat my wings to reach the cloud cover above us before we fly past the Nattertinny Castle property line. For a few struggling moments I wonder if maybe this wasn’t a crazy idea after all, or if I’m even up to the challenge. But then I catch an updraft and start to glide and fix my eyes resolutely on the trip before me. I can do this. We’ll make it. We have to.

I’m tired of living in fear.

*

Ten hours later, as dawn is breaking over Romania and I’m still not to the safe resting place, I realize I am, indeed, completely crazy. I had some friends who ran a marathon during college last year, and they limped around sore and weak for days afterward. In a lot of ways that’s what I’ve just done, only I’ve got to do it all again tomorrow, and without a couple of hours of flying through clouds before the sun goes down to give me a head start.

Granted, I will be a little over halfway home once I make it to our safe place, but I had a good tailwind most of the way today, which helped. I don’t know what kind of wind I’ll get tomorrow.

Finally, just as the sun is starting to come up in earnest, I spot the familiar abandoned castle where I’ve stayed with my family on trips before. My parents discovered it years ago while fleeing the yagi, and they’ve since done some research into the place. It’s one of those unfortunate estates that were seized by the government after the First World War, which were supposed to be returned to their rightful families in the decades since the country became a republic. But no descendants of the original family have ever stepped forward to claim it, and so it sits in limbo, belonging essentially to no one. Given its remote location in the mountains, with no paved roads leading anywhere near it and any previous paths overgrown by time, hardly anyone on earth seems to realize it exists.

So we don’t feel guilty using it as an overnight resting spot. We’ve even patched up some of the broken windows and closed doors to help preserve the place from the elements, should the rightful heirs ever decide they’re up to the challenge of restoring the mammoth structure.

Not that any of that matters now. My toes are slapping against the topmost branches of trees as I lose the updraft in preparation for landing. I stumble forward on weak legs as I set down in the woods near the castle. Exhausted, I don’t wait for Ed to climb off my back before I shrink back to my human form.

Ed’s arms are still around my shoulders, and he props me up, adjusting my top for me as I sag against him. My right eye socket is smooshed against his left collarbone, but I’m too exhausted to care. Also, he smells good, like the open sky and something distinctively Ed which I’ve decided I rather like.

“What can I do fer ye?” he asks.

“Water,” I rasp, thirsty from my long flight.

Ed’s got a water bottle clipped to a belt loop on his kilt, and he opens it and holds it to my lips, tipping it just enough so I can drink, a few weak swallows at a time, without choking in my weariness.

“Are we stayin’ the night in that castle?”

“Yes. There’s a secret entrance, but we need to eat first.” I speak slowly, too tired to talk at full volume. I’m not even sure if Ed can hear me, the way my face is buried against his chest, but I don’t have the strength to support myself. It’s all I can do to stay awake.

“Want me to hunt something?”

“That would be great.”

Ed spends the next couple of minutes making sure I’ll be okay without him there to prop me up. He makes a sort of pillowed resting spot with our backpacks propped against some big rocks, and I sag against them, welcoming the oblivion of sleep until he nudges me awake to announce he has roasted meat.

My hunger is even stronger than my exhaustion, and I tear into the meal with trembling hands. Ed helps me, bestowing me with venison in small portions, practically hand-feeding me, which normally I wouldn’t tolerate but under the circumstances is a welcome relief. I’m falling asleep by the time we finish the meal.

“I hate to wake ye,” Ed apologizes, “but don’t we need to go inside?”

He’s right. We may be in a remote area, but outside the safety of the castle walls, we’d be easy prey for the yagi, especially asleep. “Can you help me stand?”

“I can do one better.” He scoops me up, cradling me in his arms. For an instant I’m caught off guard, but then I realize I’d probably be more of a burden to him if I insist on walking, and I’d only slow us down. Besides, I think I like being in his arms. So comfy.

From here I can see the rock formation that hides the secret back entrance to the abandoned castle, and I point Ed in that direction. In spite of his size and the two backpacks hanging off his back, he’s able to carry me through the tunneled entrance without bumping me into anything. My brothers discovered the entrance while they were exploring the place once when we were staying here as kids. Before that, we only ever knew to fly in to the courtyard from above. All the other entrances are blocked off.

And even this route of entry, once we make our way through, we lock securely behind us by dropping a heavy iron beam into a catch plate, sealing off the inner door so no one can follow us in. We’ll leave it open behind us when we leave so we can use that entry again on another visit.

“There’s a well,” I explain as we pass through the courtyard. “The water is good.”

Ed stops and draws a bucketful, and I drink, every bit as thirsty as I was hungry. Then I point the way to a room I know of, with a small couch where my parents once spent the night. There are rooms on the second floor that still have beds in them, but the stairs seem impossibly far away, and this little room is so close.

Ed lowers me onto the loveseat and then acts like he’s going to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“To find a room for me.”

“Stay here. Keep me safe.” To my relief, he doesn’t take much convincing, but slumps besides me and puts his feet up on the marble-topped coffee table in front of us.

I flop onto his shoulder. The castle is chilly and I’m glad for his warmth.

*

I awake to bright sunlight and realize from the angle of the sun that it’s late afternoon. I’ve slept most of the day, and I’m hungry. I’m pretty sure Ed has been asleep this whole time, but when I lift my head, he changes position, his green eyes opening sleepily.

“Ye hungry?”

“Famished.”

“I’ll go find us a meal.” He eases out from under me and slips away.

For a moment, I consider trying to get up, but then decide it’s not worth the effort. I tip over, resting my head on the empty section of the sofa that’s still warm from Ed’s body. I curl my legs up next to my chest and close my eyes again.

Before long Ed is back, awakening me to the promise of food, and I sit up to eat, marveling that Ed is so handy with hunting. It’s something I’d always taken for granted before, because my dad always hunted and taught us to hunt. We dragons need a lot of calories to keep going.

While every member of my family understands the importance of hunting and eating meat, I’ve never met anyone else who places the same priority on consuming large quantities of meat, let alone possesses the skills to hunt and roast their prey.

Which raises another question I hadn’t much thought about. Between bites, I ask Ed, “Can you breathe fire?”

“Aye. That’s how I cooked yer food.”

I accept his explanation, even though it seems at odds with what he is. Why would a sea creature need to know how to breathe fire? But I’m more interested in eating than talking, and I don’t suppose that’s a question Ed can really answer, any more than I could tell you why my wings are fireproof and my scales armored.

It’s just how we are.

And anyway, there’s another question that’s been bothering me, burning inside me all through my flight last night.

“What did my mom want to talk to you about?”

“Lots of things.” Ed’s answer is noncommittal.

“Like what things?”

“She’s worried for yer safety. She asked me questions about myself.”

“Why couldn’t she have done that in front of me?”

Ed looks me full in the face with his bright green eyes. Neither of us have bothered with contacts for this trip, because no one is supposed to see us anyway, and contacts are a bother. We packed them, but we’re not wearing them. Ed shrugs off my question. “I dunno.” Then he quickly raises another subject. “I don’t think we should fly tonight.”

“Why not?” I’m aware that he switched topics on me, but this new choice is a good one, and I wasn’t getting anywhere with my line of questioning, so I let him switch. But I still wonder what my mom said to him, just the same.

“It’s too far. Last night’s journey was hard on ye. I don’t want to wear ye out completely. Besides, it’s been a year since ye were attacked. One more day won’t make any difference. We’re safe here. We should rest.”

I mull his words. It goes against our plan, yes, but all his points are valid. I’ve never been so exhausted. The sun will be setting in a matter of hours. I won’t have my strength up by then. “I’m not as strong as I thought I was,” I admit softly, disappointed in myself.

“I’m heavier than ye expected,” Ed says. “I was impressed ye made it as far as ye did. Ye just need your rest. Yer strong. Mighty strong.” The last of his words are spoken in a soothing tone.

I’ve finished off whatever of the meat I’m going to eat, and now I sag back on the sofa, my eyes drooping downward, more relieved than disappointed that we won’t be leaving tonight.