Backyard Dragons (6 page)

When the bizarre reaction faded, he raised to his hands and knees. Tariel lay on the ground, blinking up at him. For several long moments, they stared at each other. Justin thought maybe he should have hit the sword with a log instead of holding it while he cut that disturbing ring.

Chapter 8

Claire

“This is stupid. We shouldn’t be on lookout duty. We should be standing there, watching him do his thing. He should trust me. It’s not like I’m going to interfere or something. Someday, I’m going to have to do the stuff he does by myself, and staying outside the blast radius won’t help me learn anything. I don’t even know what thing he’s doing!”

Enion landed on her shoulder. “We can be brave Knights too!”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Claire heard a screen door open. She froze, hoping the door belonged to the next house over. When she saw a woman in a tie-dye skirt and matching shirt hurry around the corner, she knew she’d have to figure out how to deal with it.

The woman had Marie’s platinum blonde hair and similar lines. She seemed several years older, though, with small lines around her blue eyes and thin mouth. She reminded Claire of Grandpa Jack more than Grandma Tammy, except Grandpa Jack would never be caught dead with dangly blue crystal earrings, matching bracelets and necklace, or mismatched rings on every finger. Bright green cat-eye glasses hung from a cord around her neck.

“Who are you? What are you doing on my—” She stopped short and covered her mouth with a hand, her gaze shifting past Claire’s shoulder. “Goodness gracious.”

Too late to warn Justin, Claire figured stalling would be the next best thing. “Are you Anne?” She hopped into the woman’s way and kept her from getting past.

“Yes.” Anne shoved Claire aside.

Out of the corner of Claire’s eye, she noticed Tariel’s rump lying limp on the ground. She raced Anne to the horse, looking for Justin. Beyond Tariel, she found him on his hands and knees, blinking like an idiot, with his sword stuck in the dirt. Dragons stirred and rolled around.

Enion trilled with joy as he leaped off Claire’s shoulder and flew to join the clump of silver bodies.

“What’s going on back here?” Anne knelt beside Tariel’s head and stroked her neck.

Claire went for Justin. She had no idea how something as big as a horse could fall over without her hearing it from twenty feet away. Whatever caused it had kept Justin from making any noise either.

With Claire’s help, Justin sat up. He rubbed his face and shook his head. “Did you know about the dragons?”

“Of course I did,” Anne said. “Don’t be stupid. They eat the aphids and wasps that would otherwise devastate my garden.”

“Did you see anyone else back here?”

Claire offered him a steadying hand. Justin shook his head again and pushed it away.

Anne leaned forward and peered into Tariel’s eye. “Not that I can remember. Why do you ask? And what are you doing back here? What have you done to Tariel?”

“Dragons.” Justin planted one hand on Claire’s shoulder and braced the other against a nearby tree. He rose to his feet with a groan.

Claire leaned in and turned her back on Anne. “Are they really free?”

“Yes.” Justin took a deep breath and shifted to lean against the tree.

Anne stood and planted her fists on her hips. “Are you here to convince me not to come tomorrow?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Don’t be an ass. What did you do to Tariel? I could report you for animal cruelty.”

“Whatever. I don’t need this today.” One hand rubbing the bridge of his nose, Justin pushed Anne away hard enough to make her stumble.

“Is that how you treat my sister?”

Claire tried to block the argument out. She didn’t want to hear them snipe at each other like she’d heard so many foster parents do. Her attention shifted to the writhing mass of silver. All the dragons looked the same to her. Though they each probably had unique, distinguishing characteristics, she had no idea which one might be hers.

Squatting at the edge of the nest, she let the adults bicker in the background. “Enion, you can’t stay here anymore. You’re coming to live with me. You can visit sometimes, but as my sprite, you’ve got to stay with me.”

Chirps filled the air in a chorus, confused at first, then increasingly agitated. Claire backed away from what sounded like a heated argument and wished another one didn’t happen to be taking place behind her.

“Claire!” Justin’s booming shout cut through everything and silenced the dragons. “Tariel won’t be able to run for a while. Grab Enion and go through the Palace to get home. You can access it from any couch if you want it hard enough, and exit through any couch you know. Take the bus if you can’t manage that. Tell Marie I’ll be home later because I’m not leaving Tariel here.”

Anne opened her mouth but Justin held up a hand to cut her off. “Not now,” he said.

Hearing the weariness in his voice, Claire nodded and held out a hand. “Let’s go, Enion.” Though she’d never seen him be anything other than patient and earnest, she worried Justin might snap if too many people prodded him too much. Anne and Missy had both pushed him a lot this morning already.

Enion wriggled out of the throng and rocketed upward to land in Claire’s hand. “Can my flight come with us?”

Claire wanted to say yes, because having a pile of dragons in the backyard sounded incredible. One glance at Justin left her concerned he might disallow it even if he’d be inclined to agree after a good night of sleep. “We’ll have to talk about it later. Marie gets to have a say for things like that.”

As she hurried away, trying to figure out where to find a couch, Enion jumped onto her shoulder and called to the swarm, “See you soon!” Subdued chirps faded as Claire jogged up the street.

She knew which way Tariel had brought them and figured she’d eventually find a bus stop, a furniture store, a couch awaiting trash pickup, or something else of use so long as she headed in that same direction.

Enion hunkered down, his claws digging into her sweater. “They’re excited.”

“Me too. I hope they can come stay with us.” Spotting a gas station ahead, Claire slowed and thought about checking on Rondy. They could talk about her locket and make sure transferring the power would be the right choice. If he felt up to it, they could even take care of it. Afterward, she wanted to talk Drew into helping her convince Justin, Marie, Grandma, and Grandpa that they should have a bunch of dragons in the backyard.

With a firm plan, she set off in search of a couch.

Chapter 9

Justin

Justin rubbed his eyes, thinking he must have dreamed about finding and releasing the dragons. He lay in darkness, and it felt like his bed. His imagination had coughed up the first person he thought of to be hosting the dragons. Anne had been on his mind because that wine she preferred cost twenty bucks he didn’t have to spare, and he’d had to go get it this morning.

He patted the bed beside him and found only empty space. Marie must have let him sleep, which he appreciated. The pitch black bothered him, though. Their curtains couldn’t block out starlight, let alone sunlight. Even if he’d barely slept, he thought he remembered a full moon tonight.

Resolved to figure out the mystery with the lights on, he sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed, only to hit more bed with them. Stranger, he seemed to be wearing his boots. He patted his body down and discovered he also still wore his jeans, armor, and cloak. No matter how tired he might have been, he’d never wear any of that to bed.

Groping in the dark, he felt the surface he sat on and discovered it had no bed-like properties other than softness. He scooped up a handful of something that felt wet and sandy and wound up crawling on his hands and knees to find the edges.

He didn’t remember much past sending Claire away. He asked her to go, silenced Anne in the rudest way imaginable, and turned his attention to Tariel, still lying on the ground. He thought she might have been dazed by some kind of magical backlash that hit her harder because she had a stronger connection to magic.

After that, he remembered nothing. “Hello?”

Soft orange light spread on the horizon, starting as a tiny sliver and expanding until it showed him the beach he lay on with a thin layer of water rolling in and out. Seashells and clumps of kelp studded the sand. He reached out and touched the water as it slid close, finding it pleasantly warm. It drained away, out of sight, and surged back, like the ocean.

Somehow, he’d wound up in a Phasm’s demesne. Without his sword, he had no weapon here, which would make escape much more challenging. He took a deep breath and applied his will to punching a hole through the barrier between this demi-reality and the real world. Nothing happened. The Phasm probably had moved him away from the weak point in the barrier.

Intent on escaping to come back with his sword and deal with this, Justin stood and chose to walk along the beach. Finding the weak point would be a matter of pitting his will against the Phasm’s, so it didn’t matter which direction he walked, only that he moved his body while focusing his mind. The place should work similarly to the Palace Thoroughfare.

“Going someplace?”

Justin recognized the voice and froze. “Kurt?”

“I always knew you weren’t as dumb as you act.” The misty figure who stepped into the light had all of Kurt’s features without the years layered on top. This younger version had no creases or calluses or scars. By the time Justin had met his mentor, Kurt’s belly had gone a bit soft, and his shoulders hadn’t been so straight and strong. This version shone in the prime of his life, near Justin’s own age.

There existed the slim chance Kurt hadn’t become corrupted yet. Justin had never encountered a Phasm with a demesne who hadn’t been, but he’d heard some of the Knights talking about the odd things they encountered from time to time. If anyone would be too irascible to do the usual thing, it would be Kurt.

“I can’t imagine why.” Justin grinned and offered Kurt his hand.

Kurt echoed the grin and slapped his hand into Justin’s. They shook, then Kurt pulled Justin in for a hug. He thumped Justin’s back with the same force he’d always used—enough to shake his bones.

Something pressed on Justin’s mind, in a flicker or an itch. Kurt could be on the brink of corruption. Justin wondered what it would take to push him over, either accidentally or on purpose. He focused on resisting what could be an accidental attempt at intrusion and hoped it didn’t put Kurt off.

“I guess it hasn’t been long,” Kurt said as he pulled away, “because you look exactly the same.” He seemed not to notice the quiet battle of wills taking place as his ghostly hand settled on Justin’s shoulder.

“No, not long at all. What is all this?”

“Not sure, boy, but my Emmy is here too.”

Justin blinked, not sure how to interpret that. Kurt’s wife shouldn’t appear in Kurt’s demesne. Except he remembered how the illusion Kurt had crafted of her in the Palace had been so detailed and precise that Justin had thought the woman real at first. When Kurt died, the illusion had still been there. That probably explained all this, at least to someone who understood magic.

“That’s great. Why am I here, though? I need to get back home. I have an apprentice now, and she needs training worse than I did.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “She?”

“Long story.”

“I bet.” Kurt stroked his chin, watching Justin. “I guess you could say I need your help, boy.”

His heart sinking, Justin stifled a sigh. If the old man wanted what every corrupted Phasm wanted—help destroying the Palace—Justin would have to find a way to convince Kurt to let him go so he could come back with his sword. “With what?”

Kurt draped an arm over Justin’s shoulders and urged him to walk along the coastline. “My family. It’s kind of a minor thing, really. More about my ego than any major disaster or threat to the world. But I know I can count on you to help me out.”

Though this sounded like a less than sinister job, Justin remained suspicious. Kurt had far too much awareness of himself. That itch in Justin’s mind had only faded a tiny bit. He decided he’d agree to almost anything. If he could do it without peril, he would. No matter what, though, when he came back, he’d bring his sword.

“Sure thing, Kurt. You know how I feel about family. What do you need me to do?”

“You know my wife, Emmy, died several years ago. The worst part? I lost my daughter and her husband right around then too. They had a son, a little boy at the time. The state asked me to take him in, but I was just too upset about Emmy at the time. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a kid. Maybe that was wrong or dumb, but that boy went into foster care. I’m hoping you can track him down, check up on him, make sure he’s okay.”

Relieved that the task had nothing to do with Palace, Justin nodded. He knew Kurt couldn’t be corrupted. “What’s his name?”

“It’s…hum.” Kurt’s face screwed up in frustration. “I can’t remember. His mother was my daughter, so he’s got her husband’s last name. Huh. I guess I was a worse granddad than I thought.”

The memory lapse put Justin more at ease. “It’s okay, Kurt. What can you tell me about him?”

Kurt squinted at the sunset. “Redhead, like his dad. In fact, he looked a lot like his dad and hardly anything like me. Blue eyes. I think he wore glasses, or maybe that was his dad. Skinny. Didn’t think he’d ever be a Knight.”

Justin eyed Kurt, wondering if finding Drew with Claire had been an accident or not. “Last name Sanders, by any chance?”

“You know, that sounds fair familiar.”

“Then I think I know where he is. Jack is fostering a kid just like that. He’s my apprentice’s best friend.”

“Huh. Ain’t that a kick in the pants. Could you bring him by? I’d like to see the boy, see how he turned out. Maybe apologize if I need to.”

If Drew wasn’t Kurt’s grandson, bringing him here would cause no real harm. Kurt wouldn’t hurt him, and Drew would probably wind up seeing more than a ghost or two if he hung around Claire long enough. If Drew did happen to be Kurt’s grandson, though, he’d be reuniting them, which struck Justin as a good thing.