The Last Dragon Chronicles: Dark Fire (25 page)

something wrong with Gwillan. He  was in my head, reading me, like a listener. Something’s happened. We’ve got to call David.”

She stood up and paced around,looking for her phone.

“Whoa, whoa, wait.” Tam caught herarm. “Speak to him for sure, but he won’tcome, Lucy. He won’t leave the house, not

after what happened to your mum. Besides, if there was something going down in the Crescent, he’d know about it, wouldn’t   he?   Why   don’t  we   ask Gwendolen what she saw? If the cat was

here, she couldn’t have missed it.”

Lucy slewed her gaze towards the bedside table. Gwendolen, who’d caught the gist of Tam’s words, shrugged apologetically and hurred to say she’d been drowsy and hadn’t seen anything much, just Lucy tossing and turning a bit – the way she did sometimes at home.

The girl sank miserably onto the bed. “But  it  was   so
 
real
,” she insisted, slapping the duvet. “It must use magicks to cloak itself when it moves about. And why would it bring me a raven?”

Tam rested two fingers on her shoulderand rocked her back and forth. “Look, whydon’t you get back into bed and I’ll sit inthe chair and keep watch.”

“No way,” she said, pulling the robeclosed at the neck. “I’m not having you in

my
 
room
 
. Me and Gwendolen can look

after ourselves.”

He backed away, raising his hands. “OK. But this time you leave your doorunlocked. Is that fair?”

She gave a reluctant nod.

“Good.” He stepped sideways andchecked the window (closed and locked),the old fireplace (a possible point ofentry, but where were the sooty prints?)and the bathroom (barring one smallspider, empty). By the time he’d finished

Lucy was sitting in bed with her kneesdrawn up. “Can I get you anything?” heasked.

“Phone,” she muttered. It had fallen to the floor when she’d dragged the duvet over her again.

He lobbed it onto the bed. “Call

David,” he said, “if it will make you feelbetter.”

She toyed with the phone and put itaside. What could David say that Tamhadn’t? She slid down as if a ghost hadtugged her ankles, soaking herself in thewarmth   and   security   of  compactedpolyester and a goose feather pillow. “Turn off the light when you go out –please.”

“Sleep well,” he said. “Early start,

remember?”

She gave an unappreciative grunt. Tamsmiled, flicked the switch and closed thedoor.

On the landing, he paused a moment. Thehouse was all but silent, its historic heartbeating to the characteristic  thrum ofheated water travelling through tubes ofmetal. But as he turned towards his room,the ceiling above him suddenly creaked. Aswift assessment of the architecture of the

stairs told him that the sound must have

come from the landing above. He climbed five stairs and looked up. A grey-haired lady in a dark green quilted gown met his gaze. Her nostrils flared. She clasped the gown tight at her neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tam said. “I was… ” Well, why not tell the truth? “… looking for a cat. You must be Ms Gee?”

The old woman’s mouth grew tight andwrinkled. Her top lip protruded over thebottom, making her look a little like aduck. “I was not aware there were anysuch animals in the house.” She propped ahand under her tightly-pinned hair, woundat her neck like a ball of wire wool.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I should like to visit the bathroom – in private. I was woken rather suddenly by that awful girl’s shriek.”

Tam  nodded  in  apology.   “Won’thappen again.” He lowered his weightonto the next stair down. “Bathroom?” he

queried. “The rooms are all en suite,

aren’t they?”

“Not on this floor,” Ms Gee said, in a

voice that could have tarnished metal. She

continued along the landing. And the only other thing Tam noticed about her was that she was barefoot.

Had he crouched down and stayed inhiding, however, instead of going back tohis bed, he would have been far moresuspicious of the slipperless Ms Gee andmight have been tempted to knock down
her
 
door with all the strength of the icebear,  Kailar.   She  remained  in  thebathroom for less than a minute before

shuffling back to her room, whereupon she began a strange, and apparently one-sided, conversation.

“So, the girl is genuine. Interesting.”

(gap)

“What? What about the sculpture?”

(gap)

“Don’t be foolish. How could it be her

familiar? It’s a poor imitation of a dragon, nothing more. Even so, it seems we are not alone. What do you make of her handsome guardian?”

(gap)

“He smells of
 
bears
 
? Have you lost

your senses entirely?”

(gap)

“What? Are you certain? Where?”

(gap)

“Don’t tax my patience. I meant, where

does he carry the
 
mark
?”

(gap)

“Then they are powerful, and we must

act before they do. The girl cannot be allowed to imprint on the dragon.”

(gap)

“Impertinent creature! There is no such thing as a rightful ‘heir’. And
 
you
 
will do my bidding or suffer!”

(gap)

“That’s  better.  Now,  come  here. Comfort me. Such excitement isn’t good for my heart – or
 
yours
 
.”

(gap)

“Be quiet. I’m not interested to know about the girl’s dreams. I don’t like ravens. Especially dead ones.”

(gap)

“I said, be quiet!”

And there the ‘conversation’ ended, but for a particular sound rising and falling

through the silence.

Purring.

Gwillan wakes

“How is she?” David came into the

bedroom and stood beside Zanna, who was staring down wistfully at Liz.

A day and a half had passed since the accident and Liz was still stretched out

asleep beneath the covers, her beautiful red hair splaying across the pillow like the roots of a small tree. Several dragons were in attendance, most notably Gretel, who had a tray of small dishes containing seeds and flower heads and strangecoloured liquids laid out in the empty space at Liz’s side. On the bedside table next to her was Alexa’s white horse.

“No change,” Zanna said, moving a

strand of black hair off her brow. A hint of

defeat had seeped into her voice. Dark rings were appearing under her eyes. “Gretel’s   prepared   some   diagnostic potions from samples of Liz’s hair and saliva. The good news is there’s nothing to indicate distress in either mother or

baby. No infection. No signs of abnormal foetal development. The bad news is we can’t wake her. We’ve tried to stimulate

her, but she’s just not responding. Her brain is very active, though. Look at her eyes.”

David glanced down. Liz’s eyelids were fluttering rapidly. “Dreaming?”

Zanna nodded. “She’s been channelling something ever since you brought her in. Arthur thinks she’s transmitting thought waves. Where to is anyone’s guess.”

David moved round behind her and sat

in the wicker chair vacated by Arthur. The professor, having spent the entire night there, had gone downstairs to telephone his office. “You need to rest, Zanna.”

The young sibyl twisted her knees and let herself perch on the end of the bed. She laid a hand on the region of Liz’s ankles. “I’m worried that she might not break out of this, David. I’ve used every technique that Agatha taught me, but nothing’s working. The thought has crossed my mind that Gwilanna could have left a ‘thorn’ in

Liz’s back when she was treating theobsidian. Some spell that only she couldremove. She was pretty definite in thegraveyard about the child not survivingwithout her.”

David leaned forward, making the legsof the wicker chair creak. “Gwilanna’s an

expert in double talk. Don’t lose faith. Liz is strong – in body and in spirit. Let’s wait

a  while  longer  and  see  how  she

progresses.”

Disbelief flickered across Zanna’s

face. “David, she’s carrying the dark fire

–   in   her
 
womb
. Anything could be happening to the child.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that.” He stared into the cradle of his hands for a

moment, then stood up and turned towards the window. A still grey light had settled over the Crescent, a fine drizzle beading the leaves of the trees. It made him

wonder   about   the   conditions   at

Scuffenbury.   “Don’t   forget   this   is

Gwillan’s tear. He’s part of Liz. Just like Gretel and the others. You said you’vedetected no trauma. So it’s possible Liz’sbody is assimilating the threat. She’s beentouched by the power of Gawain all herlife. I say we wait and monitor hercarefully. I won’t give in to Gwilanna.”

Zanna let out a deep breath and took inanother. “OK, but I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” he joked. He cameover and cupped a warm hand around herarm, wishing so much that he could kissher head. “You’re doing a fantastic job. Ipromise you, if you feel you can’t copethen—”

He   stopped  speaking  as   Groyne

materialised on the bed in front of them.

“What is it?” David demanded. The

shape-shifter’s tail was flipping like a

rudder.

Hrrr!
 
went Groyne. It was Gwillan, he

said.

The house dragon was moving.

The dragons that had been in the bedroomwith Liz  reached the Den first, so therewas already a cluster of activity around Gwillan when David and Zanna hurried

in. To their amazement, colour had returned to the house dragon’s scales, and though his eyes were nothing like the intense shade of violet that would indicate

a   full
 
charge
 
(for want of a better description   from   G’reth),   he   was nevertheless active, if a little woozy.

“Gwillan?” David crouched in front of

him, speaking the name in dragontongue. He touched his fingers to the sensitive regions just behind the dragon’s ear, like a doctor might feel for raised glands in the throat of a child.

“Well?” said Zanna, clutching tightly at

her arms. This whole business was

spooking her a little.

“Strange,” David muttered, drawing his

hands away. “That was Liz’s auma.”

“
Liz?
 
”

“Yes. It’s like a scent or a signature. He’s reaching out to her – or her to him. It’s hard to tell.”

“They’re commingling, you mean? How can that happen? I didn’t know it was possible over a distance.”

David glanced at Grace. He saw she

had closed down but thought nothing of it. “Neither did I,” he muttered, rubbing the ends of his fingers together. “But he was reading me – or trying to. I could feel the energy racing  through my fingertips. He was drawing on the auma of Gawain inside me.”

At that moment, Gwillan gave out a thinwail. It was not unknown for the

Pennykettle dragons to make sounds abovethe pitch of their normal hurrs. But whenthey did, their companions were usuallyquite startled, which was the case now. Every dragon jumped, barring Gretel (and Grace). The potions dragon sighed andtapped her foot. She blew a funnel ofsmoke at Gruffen. Some guard dragon
 
he
was. Hmph.

“That sounded like a cry for mummy,” Zanna said. “Should we take him to her, do you think?”

Before David could speak, there came another interruption. This one did make Gretel apprehensive. The doorbell had rung. The dragons turned their heads towards the sound.

“If that’s Gwilanna,” Zanna said, narrowing her eyes, “come to do her own special brand of midwifery, you’d better decide whose side you’re on.”

Gwilanna wouldn’t ring a doorbell
 
, David thought. But the first time he’d met her, that was exactly what she’d done. Turned up at a crucial moment, on a drizzly day like this, when Liz had been going  through   a   different   kind   of

pregnancy: the kindling process that had ultimately spawned Grockle. “Keep a watch on  Gwillan,” he said to Groyne, and moved to the door of the Den.

Downstairs, he could hear Arthurtalking to a woman. To his relief it wasn’t Gwilanna.

“Well, I’m afraid Lucy’s not here,” Arthur was saying, “and Elizabeth… ”

“If it’s difficult, we’ll come back another time,” said the woman.

“Mu-um?!” A young girl’s voice rang out. “We’ve come all the way from Plymouth! That’s like, zillions of miles. We can’t just ‘pop back’ when it’s more convenient!”