Dragon (15 page)

I grip my swords as well, just to be safe.

I’m not sure if Ram timed it purposely, but he tugs the door open just as a large flash of lightning shocks the darkness into white light, and screams erupt throughout the room.

Chapter Fifteen

I duck toward the floor as the screaming bats circle chaotically overhead. The room is dark now, so I have no idea how many were in the closet. Plenty.

“Well,” Ram’s voice is close to my ear, and I realize he’s hovering just above me, covering me, protecting me from the onslaught of flying mammals. “If anyone is home, we’ll probably meet them soon. I can’t imagine anyone could sleep through that.”

A rumble of thunder nearly buries his words.

“Are they gone?”

“The bats? I don’t know if they left the room, but they’re not flying around so much. It may be safe to leave now, but stay low.”

I run, crouching, my arms over my head to keep the critters from flying into my hair. Ram stays over me until we’re back in the courtyard, under the protection of the walkway above, peering into the sheets of rain that make it impossible to see across the square.

I shudder. “Bats are so creepy.”

“They eat bugs. They’re useful.” It almost sounds like Ram’s defending them.

“We’re not related to them, are we?”

He laughs. “Hardly. They’re flying mammals that turn into vampires. We’re humans who turn into flying reptiles. Two totally different species.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. The way he talks, in his usual serious voice, it’s almost as though he believes vampires are real. “Do you think any of those bats are going to turn into vampires?”

“Did their eyes glow red?”

“I don’t think so.” Not that I was really looking.

“Most bats are just bats—just like most humans are just humans, and most lizards are just lizards. Although Romania has long been rumored to house the greatest remnant of the vampire population. Dracula’s castle is not far from here.”

“So, all the vampires should be there, not here, right?”

“Something like that, I’m sure,” Ram says with a wink which I suppose is meant to indicate there’s nothing to worry about. “Let’s try the next room.”

The door is closed, and I brace myself as he places one hand on the knob, but nothing flies out when he opens it.

This room has only one window, which appears to be mostly intact—a couple of the panes are cracked, but judging by the way the rain hits them, they’re all still in place, at least. Leaves wave frantically in the wind on the other side of the glass. A bush or tree must have protected the window from the elements.

An upright piano occupies one wall, its keys dusty and warped with age. Next to it, a four-drawer filing cabinet stands sentinel in the corner, one drawer pulled out as though someone was looking for something before being suddenly called away. A settee with curved wooden legs sits near the opposite wall. Lightning flashes reveal its upholstery is faded but otherwise undamaged.

“This room is better preserved,” Ram muses aloud.

“Yeah,” I agree. “But why? Do you think somebody has been living here?”

He glances at the piano keys as lightning flickers again. The dust is thick and even. No one has touched the instrument in years, possibly decades.

“Think the sofa will hold us?” Ram steps toward the settee.

“It’s probably full of mice, or worse,” I predict, given our experience in the previous room.

Ram pulls out his saber and slaps the cushions with the flat side of the blade.

Dust billows into the air, and I duck my head behind his shoulder.

Ram slaps the cloud away. “I didn’t hear any mice. Care to join me?”

“You first.” I hold back for two reasons. One, I know Ram is exhausted and needs to get off his feet. And two, I really don’t trust the couch. Not that it isn’t still sturdy—judging from the palatial proportions of the abandoned estate, the couch and all the rest of the furnishings were probably top of the line, the best money could buy. And time hasn’t been so hard on this room.

But sitting means putting my guard down, if only slightly. I’m not ready to do that yet. Ion or the yagi could show up any time.

Ram settles into the seat. It creaks a little, but that’s all.

“Ah.” He puts his feet up on the marble-topped occasional table in front of the settee.

Lightning sizzles through the sky, followed immediately by a sharp crack of thunder. The girls at Saint Evangeline’s used to make a game of counting off the seconds between lightning and thunder to determine how close we were to the center of the storm.

I don’t have to count anything to know we’re close. Another flash, this one exceptionally bright, lights the room, sending shadows stretching across the floor and up the walls from the slender tree branches outside.

“Think it can hold both of us?” I step toward Ram.

“Join me.” He pats the seat and I lower myself down, supporting some of my weight with my feet until I’m sure the aged sofa isn’t going to give way. By the time I’m brave enough to settle my feet on the low table next to Ram’s, his breathing is low and even. He’s asleep.

It takes me several long minutes before I can relax, and it’s not just because of the thunder and lightning. We left the door to the room standing partway open. We’re slightly hidden behind it, since it opens to the side of the room with the piano and file cabinet, but being hidden also means being unable to see if someone steps through the doorway until they’re a few steps into the room.

This doesn’t reassure me.

That, and the way the lightning illuminates the flailing tree branches outside the window, sending their shadows thrashing across the walls and floor, I keep thinking I see movement. Or hands. Or faces.

It’s probably nothing. Unless this place isn’t abandoned. For all I know, those bats could be changing into vampires this very minute. Or, more likely but less encouraging, Ion and the yagi may have watched us fly through the night and followed us here. If that’s the case, they could attack now, or keep following us until they feel they’ve found the perfect moment to strike.

*

Sunlight filters through the leaves outside the window, splashing across the stone floor, leaving slender rainbow prisms where the light passes through the cracks in the glass. I can only see it with one eye, the other being smashed against the shoulder of Ram’s flannel shirt. His chest is rising and falling with even rhythm.

He must have been exhausted.

It’s my fault, too, for making him fly with me on his back—for making him go on this blooming trip and fight Ion and the yagi all the time, to boot. I wouldn’t feel so guilty about it, except that I know there’s only one thing keeping us from flying straight home to my father—and that’s the fact that I can’t change into a dragon.

Yes, being a dragon is scary. No, I’m not yet used to the idea, or fond of it, or any of those things. But that doesn’t matter. I need to turn into a dragon if we’re going to make it home.

I’m also thirsty, if reluctant to leave Ram’s side. It’s a comfort being close to him. Reassuring, even. He’s strong and gentle and I feel safe here. But I’m also crazy thirsty.

Carefully, I ease myself from the settee, hoping to slip away quietly without waking Ram.

His blue eyes open. “What time is it?”

“I’ve no idea. I don’t even know what time zone we’re in.”

“The sun’s been up awhile.” Ram rises and steps toward the window.

“I suppose it has—not that it makes much difference. We ought to rest by day and fly at night, if the weather would cooperate.” I walk toward the door. “Do you suppose the well in the courtyard has water in it?”

“Most likely.” Ram looks out the window, then follows me to the courtyard, where, indeed, the well has water not more than ten feet down. The metal bucket is dented with age and the rope faded, but otherwise they appear to be in working order.

“I’m not going to fill it too full,” I explain as I lower the bucket with the rope. “I’m not confident the rope can handle the weight of it full, and I don’t want to lose the bucket.”

“Good idea.” Ram doesn’t stand by to see how it goes. Instead he’s circling the courtyard by the light of day. He travels all the way around before joining me at the well and pointing past me to a high archway. “The main door’s nailed shut. Heavy beams, nails rusted through. It won’t pop open easily.”

I’ve drunk my fill and hand the bucket to Ram. “Suppose there’s another door?”

He drinks the last of the water and lowers the bucket for more. “That, or maybe we can go through a window.”

We check all the rooms methodically, looking out the windows. Halfway through, it becomes apparent we’re not going to find a way out through the windows. The castle is surrounded by an old moat, emptied by time. We could go out a window, but it would be a twenty foot drop—or more, and then a sheer climb up the other side of the dry moat.

The leaves I saw outside the window of the room we slept in are the tippy-top branches of a straggly tree that sprouted from the bottom of the moat. But it’s far too spindly to hold us, so there’s no way we could climb out onto its branches to find our way down—not on that tree or any other.

We’re stuck.

“Maybe you can breathe fire on the boarded-over door?” I suggest hopefully.

“By the time I burn through those beams, I’ll likely have burnt away the bridge as well—not to mention the risk of burning the whole place down.”

“It’s too nice a place to risk that. Somebody ought to fix it up someday.”

“I suppose they hope to, if they bothered to board over the door to protect the inside from vandals. I’ll have to fly us out of here.”

“We can fly out of here,” I amend his plans slightly. “I want to try again.”

“Turning into a dragon?” Ram seems unsure of what I’m talking about, which strikes me odd, because what else would I be talking about?

“Of course. Don’t you think I can?”

“Can? Theoretically, physiologically, yes, I think you can. But Ilsa,” he turns to face me, and again I’m blown away by how blue his eyes are, “you have to want to change into a dragon. You didn’t even come close last night, and I’m sure there’s a reason for it.”

“Well, I want to now.” I do my best to look confident.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to be a dragon?”

The day is growing warm as Ram is being daft. “So we can fly out of here.”

Ram nods. “But why do you want to be a dragon?”

“I don’t bloody well want to be a dragon,” I snap impatiently. “I just want out of here.”

“I’ll fly you out.” Ram looks only vaguely disappointed by my outburst. It seems more as though I’ve simply confirmed what he was trying to say the whole time.

“Look, no,” I grab his arm. “I want to fly out of here as a dragon. You’re tired. You shouldn’t have to carry me.”

“I’m well enough rested now. Besides, I won’t stay a dragon long. We don’t dare fly far, not in bright daylight when anyone could see us.”

“We’re in a remote part of the foothills, but whatever. I’m just saying—let me try.” I meet his eyes with my most imploring look.

“I don’t mind letting you try.” His expression is mostly patient, but something in his eyes snaps with intensity. “But I think you first need to examine why it is you don’t really want to change. Until you address that, nothing’s going to happen—”

I open my mouth to interrupt, but Ram raises his hand and continues his speech.

“And you’re only going to make it worse. By trying and failing, you’re only going to teach yourself how not to do it.”

I wince slightly, not because I’m in pain, but because his words hit so close to something tender inside of me, but I don’t know what it is. I draw in slow breaths while I study his eyes, still trying to come to terms with who this person is who’s done so much for me.

Remember how I said, way back in Prague, that I don’t really know him? That’s changed somewhat. In some ways, I know him really well. I know he would fight his way through scores of yagi to keep me safe. I know I trust him more than I trust Ion—but why is that? In so many ways they’re the same. Both dragons. Both of them are fighting over me, like I’m the ball in a game of keep-away, or the rope in a tug-o-war.

Why are they fighting over me, anyway? Because I’m female? Because Eudora sent Ion to kidnap me, and my dad hired Ram to bring me home?

Ram is just a guy my dad hired. He protects me because he’s paid to. I tell myself that, but I’m not sure if I believe it. He has made greater sacrifices on my behalf than I feel I deserve. Exhaustion, hunger, the loss of his dog. Maybe all dragons are devoted like that.

It’s his dragonishness that’s so strange. The fact that he can fly, breathe fire, change into a reptile in a breath. The fact that he’s sixty-seven years old, but not old, all at the same time.

Ram slips his hands into mine, watches me patiently as I wrestle with my thoughts.

I look him full in the face. “Can I try?”

“Do you want to be a dragon?”

I want to say ‘yes,’ but I can’t lie to him. “I want to want to.”

“It’s not a means to an end. It’s a thing in itself.”

I grip his hands tighter. “Tell me why I should want to. Help me want it.”

Ram dips his head closer to mine. Droplets of well water twinkle on his beard, glinting in the morning sun as he speaks. “A once-glorious race has been hunted nearly to extinction. If they’re going to survive another generation, they need you.”

His words are too reminiscent of what Ion said to me at the lake. Ion’s statements have been bothering me for many reasons—not just because of what I understand them to mean, but also for what I don’t.

“Hey Ram?”

“Yes?”

“About that—the next generation. Ion said—” I bite my lip, trying to think of what Ion said, exactly. He talked more with his hands than his words, his actions suggesting more than what he merely said.

“What?” Ram looks genuinely concerned.

Determined to accurately convey what passed between us, I replay the conversation in my mind, and shudder.

“What was it?” Ram’s tone is tentative, as though he’s afraid I might be hurt, and doesn’t want to make the hurt worse.