Tears of a Dragon (5 page)
Dirty water and debris gushed from the cave. Billy struggled to his feet and stood in the calf-deep wash, clutching his knees and coughing violently. He spat out a mouthful of water, then a plume of steam. As he gasped for breath, his lungs gurgled, forcing him to cough again. After three cycles of coughing and gasping, he finally straightened his body and drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then swiveled his head, searching for any sign of Walter and Hambone.
He spotted something moving near the cave entrance and dashed toward it. Hambone paddled furiously across the raging current. Clutching Walter’s coat in his teeth, the dog barely kept the boy’s head above water. Billy waded through the flow, yanked Walter upright, and hugged his drenched body. Hambone, now free of his burden, swam easily to the side of the river and shook a spray of droplets from his coat.
Billy trudged out of the current and laid Walter gently on the leaf-matted slope next to his canine rescuer. As the downpour sprayed Walter’s forehead, Billy patted his friend’s cheeks with his frigid hands. “C’mon buddy! Wake up!”
Gaunt and pale, Walter coughed and spat out a stream of thin saliva. Sitting up slowly, he wagged his head back and forth before looking up at Billy. With a feeble grin and a trembling voice, he said, “I dreamed I was surfing in a washing machine.”
“Pretty close,” Billy said, bracing Walter’s back. “That rinse cycle was nearly a killer.”
Walter rubbed his neck. “And a long-sleeved shirt with sharp teeth grabbed me and wouldn’t let go!”
Billy scratched Hambone’s floppy ear and laughed. “And it’s a good thing, or you’d be all washed up!”
Walter bent his neck from side to side, grimacing as loud pops sounded from his vertebrae. He motioned for Billy to let him lie down. Once his head rested on the ground again, he took a deep breath, his eyes closed. “So what now? Chase that Watcher creep?”
Billy unfastened his coat and pulled out
Fama Regis
. Water had drenched the cover, but the inner pages seemed dry enough. “We have to find Arlo and see if he survived, and Excalibur’s still gotta be around here somewhere.” He tucked the book under his coat again. “I put it in your hands to keep a dome around you, but I guess you let it go.”
Walter flashed a weak smile. “I guess it was the beach umbrella I was holding in my dream. I couldn’t surf with it, so I dropped it in the spin cycle.”
Billy stepped back into the flow of water, now abating to a gentle stream. “After we find them, we have to figure out a way to contact Mom and Prof.”
Walter shivered in the cool breeze, his eyes still closed. “Give me a minute, and I’ll help. My arms and legs are tingling.”
“Hey! Maybe Arlo carries a cell phone with him.”
“Yeah, right,” Walter said, a broad smile spreading across his wincing face. “The hillbilly wireless network.” He put an imaginary phone to his ear, his voice still quiet and pained. “Izzat yew, Agnes? Lemme talk at my hound dawg fer a minnit. I want to—”
“That’s purty close,” a voice interrupted.
Billy spun around. Arlo, drenched and dirty, held out a cell phone. “My sister’s named Agnes, but I don’t never call Hambone on a cell phone.” The old hillbilly grinned. “He uses e-mail.”
Chapter 3
Shelly gasped at the amazing sights hundreds of feet below—fields and farms laid out in green and brown checkerboards, highways and rivers lining the mountain creases like gray and blue ribbons decorating a royal garden, tiny houses with even tinier people rushing in and out pointing at the sky.
Shelly laughed at their antics. No wonder they were frightened! Her smooth limo ride had turned into a flight in the arms of an angel! Here she was, soaring through the air, embraced by powerful, yet tender arms and shielded from the driving rain by a shimmering, transparent dome. The angel, gently gliding under wings of gold, his chiseled bronze face smiling under flowing blond hair, was more than a dream come true. He was heaven on earth.
“Fear not,” the angel whispered in her ear. “We will now descend quickly.”
Shelly suddenly felt weightless, the ground rushing up toward her as though a movie camera were zooming in on a grassy field below. Excitement shook her body and snatched her breath away. Then, the soles of her shoes pressed against soft earth, saturated grass and mud with puddles all around. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and tried to settle her feet, but, still feeling the effects of the weightless plunge, she wobbled until the angel caught her and set her upright. The gentle touch of the radiant man sent new chills of delight racing across her skin. She rubbed away the goose bumps and sighed. A real angel had flown her to a secret hideaway! What would be next?
The angel led her into a thick forest, his soft, deep voice rumbling. “Take heed, fair maiden. The trail is dark, and the mud is slick.”
The two sloshed through the dim woods, the angel keeping one hand on her shoulder. His grip was soft, caressing, like a kindly grandfather’s guiding hand. They rounded a large boulder and approached a sturdy looking cabin with stacked, hewn logs and draped windows. The scent of burning wood mixed with the musty smell of damp earth, and clouds of bluish gray puffed from a brick chimney atop the sloped, cedar roof. As they drew close, an ebony door opened by itself, its hinges silent in the drum of vertical sheets of rain. The angel motioned for her to enter.
Shelly stepped up to the threshold, noting an odd design burned into the lintel. No larger than an old silver dollar, it looked like a compass with a circle at the end of each directional point. Inside, the smell of wood grew stronger, pungent, a sickeningly sweet incense injected into the smoke. The malodorous vapor hung from the low, plastered ceiling like a translucent theatre curtain that had just been raised for a performance. A steady drip from a crack in the gray plaster disclosed a leaking roof, each dime-sized drop adding to a growing puddle on the polished wood floor.
The fireplace, its flames greenish-orange, infused the cabin with stifling heat. In front of the hearth sat a low, stone table, perhaps a pedestal for the flaming crystal ball that perched on its marble top. A woman sat on a swivel chair, her hands hovering over the blazing crystal as if warming her bony fingers in the ball’s rippled aura. Shelly could only see the side of the woman’s wrinkled face, deeply creased and cracking, yet somehow still beautiful, like an antique sculpture that needed buffing.
A huge, multicolored dog lay curled at the woman’s feet, its triangular ears perking and its black eyes shining. Shelly tiptoed closer. A strange light emanated from the dog’s coat, waves of color washing through a yellowish glow. A low growl rumbled from its throat.
Shelly halted and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. The air in the cabin was too stifling, the situation too strange, even scary. While the angel helped her slip off her sweatshirt, the dog let out another growl. Its bared teeth didn’t impress her as a smile of greeting.
The woman turned her chair and tapped the dog on its head. “Quiet, Iridian!” Shelly jumped back a step. The woman’s sharp voice sounded like a firecracker, belying her apparent age. Dry, wrinkled skin hung over her skull like a rotting mask, a deep scar blistering one cheek, but her eyes blazed red, alive with vibrant energy and ancient wisdom. Shelly trembled.
The angel whispered, “Drop to one knee when I address her.” He stepped in front of the woman and bowed his head, speaking in a deep, echoing voice. “I have found her, Morgan. Your hostiam has come.”
Shelly lowered her body and planted one knee on the wood floor, her jeans slipping an inch on its wet surface. She noticed that the angel didn’t bow, and his gaze seemed fastened on her instead of Morgan, his eyes moving slowly as though surveying every inch of her body. She wished she had her sweatshirt to cover her bare arms.
The old woman spoke again, croaking like a deep-throated bird. “Shelly, my dear, it’s so nice of you to come. I am Morgan, and I am acquainted with your brother, Walter.”
The angel’s strong hand pulled Shelly back to her feet, his palm lingering in hers before he let go. She felt the angel’s gaze still locked on her. She didn’t know what else to do, so she gave Morgan a clumsy bow. “Uh, glad to meet you.”
Morgan slowly turned her head, eyeing the angel carefully. “Did you find the genealogy?”
“In an ancient vault in the Glastonbury abbey.” The angel’s deep voice sent a quiver through the floor and into Shelly’s legs, but she resisted the urge to look at him. “She is an heir, as you suspected,” the angel continued. “Though I doubt anyone in her family knows the truth. Those documents had not seen the light of day in centuries.”
Morgan’s purple lips spread into a thin smile. “And who is her guardian?”
“There is none. She has left her home and is of legal age, and she has already proven that she speaks for herself.”
Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. “I see,” she said, stretching out her words. “And the candlestone?”
“We could not find it.” The angel’s voice vibrated as it deepened to an angry tone. “I assume the father hid it elsewhere. I could have killed him, but I feared the secret would die with him.”
Morgan glanced away, waving her hand. “Don’t worry. I have another candlestone that will help me capture the one we want.”
“We did find the clothing you requested.”
Morgan’s eyes jerked back toward the angel. “Shiloh’s dress? And the analysis?”
The angel’s voice returned to normal. “Some interesting results, but not what you were hoping for. We found blood, skin, and hair samples that revealed an unusually high concentration of cyanide.”
“Cyanide?” Morgan’s eyes narrowed to red slivers. “But that would kill her, not keep her alive.”
“Exactly my thinking, but the secret to her youthfulness is unimportant now that you have a hostiam. You will live on.”
“Indeed.” Morgan pushed out of her seat, her skeletal arms trembling. As she stabilized her body, her weak smile contracted. “Shelly, I assume Samyaza has told you about my offer.”
Shelly nodded, now feeling a shiver in spite of the oven-like heat. “But how is it possible?” She watched Samyaza out of the corner of her eye. He was still looking at her. “I mean, I believe in angels and all that, but how can I bring peace to the world? I’m just a girl.” Samyaza’s continued stare sent prickles crawling across her exposed waist. She pulled the hem of her shirt down.
Morgan reached up and set her hand on Samyaza’s cheek, turning his face away from Shelly. “Patience, my love. Our time will soon come.”
Morgan moved her hand from Samyaza’s cheek to Shelly’s. “You are a blossoming flower, and, as you can see, I have angels who do what I ask.” Morgan spread out her hands, and her crystal ball materialized, hovering above her palms. Within the sphere, a battle scene appeared, two ancient armies clashing in a field, a young woman in the midst of the fray, mounted on a battle horse and shouting out commands. “Joan of Arc was younger than you,” Morgan continued, “yet she led an army and conquered a nation. She had the innocence of youth, a heavenly fairness of face, and the ability to converse with angels.”
Morgan pressed her hands together, and the sphere vanished, instantly reappearing on the pedestal. “You lack only the last of these, and with my indwelling presence, you will learn to command the most powerful angels in the universe.” She extended her arm and let the steady drip from the ceiling collect in her palm. “The difference is that you will not have to go to war to assert your will. With angels standing all around you, the media will fall all over themselves to hail you as a world leader, Joan of Arc reborn, finally receiving the accolades she deserves.” Morgan tilted her hand, spilling the water, now thick and red. “When all nations rally to our cause, we will establish peace in the world without spilling a single drop of blood.” She took Shelly’s hand in hers. “Are you willing?”
Shelly recoiled at first, wondering about the bloody liquid on the old woman’s skin, but Morgan held firm. Her touch sent a calming warmth throughout Shelly’s body. Her shivers vanished. The incense now smelled pleasing. No, better than that. Heavenly. She looked up at Samyaza again. His eyes met hers. She no longer cared that his gaze lingered. In fact, she wanted him to keep looking. How often did a girl get this kind of opportunity, to be eyed by an angel?
As long as she could remember, she’d dreamed of angels, wanting more than anything to see one, and now, with just one word, she could have them always at her side. And not only that, she could realize her desire to bring peace to a world of conflict and turmoil. The new Joan of Arc? Why not? Nothing made more sense.
Still, nagging thoughts scraped her conscience. She pulled away from Morgan and crossed her arms over her chest. “How do we know the governments will go along? I mean, they’ve never agreed on much of anything before.”
“An excellent question, my dear.” Morgan rubbed her hands together, creating a thin layer of red powder on one palm. She swept her hand through the air as if to toss the particles away, and a line of red flew toward the fire, igniting a flashing green flame. Clapping her hands together, she let the remaining residue fall to the floor. “Samyaza, is the president on board with our plan?”
The odor of incense grew stronger, even sweeter than before. The angel’s voice seemed more commanding, like the greatest hero in a conquering army.
“Without question. He has already implemented the first step. The skies and roads will soon be clear.”
“And Congress?” Morgan continued.
The angel smirked. “It seems that there’s a fire sale on souls in Washington. I’ve never seen so many bargains.”
The room grew hotter, and now Shelly was glad to have bare arms and shoulders. She felt unashamed and free, ready to do anything Morgan and Samyaza asked.
Morgan took Shelly’s hand again and pulled her close, almost nose to nose. Morgan’s breath smelled much like the incense, except older somehow. “You see, Shelly?” Morgan whispered, laying her palm over Shelly’s heart, just above the
V
in Harvard. “Everything is in place. All that is left to do is to allow me to enter your body. When I enter, you will feel a sudden surge of cold, then a warming sensation as my presence begins coursing through your veins. Then my mind will enter yours, and we will cohabit as twin sisters in a common womb, speaking to each other mind to mind. Other than the first wave of cold, the process is simple and painless. I just need your permission.”
Shelly’s gaze locked onto Morgan’s crackling red eyes. What would it feel like to have another person, someone this powerful, living inside? “Will you take complete control of me,” she asked, “or will I be able to think my own thoughts?”
Morgan’s smile widened, seeming to crack her wrinkled face into two pieces. “As long as you follow my plan, I will allow you complete control. I will be able to read your thoughts, and you will hear me speak to your mind whenever you need instructions.” Morgan spread out her fingers, pressing her palm more firmly. “It will take a great amount of courage for you to allow this invasion of your soul, but your passion for world peace and security, I’m sure, will overcome your fears.”
Morgan’s touch sent a surge of new warmth into Shelly’s bones. If Morgan lived within her, would she always feel like this? She looked up again at Samyaza’s beautiful, wondrous face, an ageless face that radiated wisdom, strength, and courage. Surely he had the power to do whatever Morgan might bid him to do. After all, he was an angel, so the plan had to work! There could be no other answer! Finally, she let out a long sigh and nodded. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
The professor kept one hand on the steering wheel while using the other to hold his phone. “Yes, William. The Watchers probably know the campsite’s location, so there’s no use returning to it and risking an unnecessary confrontation. . . . Yes. I think you should try to get to the airstrip before your mother arrives. She and her passengers may need you there to protect them.” The professor turned the windshield wipers to the fastest setting. “Flooding? Yes. The roads may not be passable, but we’ll figure out a way to join you even if we have to build an ark. . . . No. No news from the dragons. I expect that our winged friends will arrive at night to maintain secrecy. . . . Good point. With clouds covering most of the world, they might come at any time. . . . Why am I repeating your words? Because Barlow’s mustache is tickling my neck at this very moment. He’s trying to listen, and I want him to relax.”
Barlow leaned back in his seat. “Terribly sorry.”
A crack of thunder rattled the car. “I had better concentrate on my driving, William. Traffic is practically nonexistent, but the wind is whipping us around. Yet, if all goes well, I expect to be at camp by nightfall.” He set the phone on a dashboard clip and checked the clock. “Ten minutes after.” He tapped the radio button. “The president’s address has probably already started.”
Static crackled from the speakers, but a voice managed to overcome the noise. “—given the crisis at hand. Therefore, Congress has voted to give me emergency powers to temporarily limit selected privileges in order to track down the source of this disaster and ensure security for all citizens. Our scientists have assured me that this weather phenomenon is not of natural origin, and we are tracing a line of evidence that will soon pinpoint the culprit.” There was a long, static-filled pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers. “Because of the need to clear the already flooded highways for emergency transports, I am ordering all nonemergency vehicles off public roads. All private transportation is suspended on ground and in the air. I am sorry for having to take such drastic action, but we must maintain the safety and security of our people.”
