The Last Dragon Chronicles: Dark Fire (26 page)

“Who is it?” Zanna hissed, coming so

close to David’s shoulder that he could

take in the scent of her hair.

“Not sure. Someone who knows the

Pennykettles, though.”

At that moment, Alexa joined in theconversation.   “Hhh!   You’ve   got   a

dragon!”

“Yep,” said the girl. “Are you Lucy’s

sister?”

“I’m Alexa,” said Alexa. “What’s your

dragon’s name?”

“Glade.”

“Liz made her,” the woman explained.

“Then I think you’d better come in,” said Arthur.

“This gonna be a problem?” Zanna whispered.   She  looked back at the workbench. Groyne was instructing the other dragons to stand well clear of

Gwillan. The house dragon, still unsteadyon his feet, had wrapped his tail round Groyne to support himself.

“The girl’s got one of Liz’s dragons,”muttered David. “I didn’t know there were

others besides Grace outside the house.”

Zanna, none the wiser, pushed up hersleeves. “Well, let’s go and investigate,then. Time to observe the most ancient of

Pennykettle traditions.”

David looked at her blankly.

“Kettle,” she said, tapping his cheek.

A new dragon in the house

In the kitchen it transpired that Rachel Cartwright and her daughter, Melanie, hadnot made a specific journey to the Crescent, but had pulled in en route toseeing relatives nearby.

“Such a drag that Lucy’s not here,” Melanie   said,   wringing   out   herdisappointment through the last few inchesof her pale pink T-shirt. “She’ll be deadupset that she didn’t see Glade.” She ranher fingers down the dragon’s spine. Despite what must have been the greatexcitement of returning to her ‘birth’ placeand seeing other Pennykettle dragonsaround her, Glade remained solid, thoughthe scarf of sculpted ivy around her neck

had turned from green to a warm shade of gold. “That means she feels welcome,” Melanie said to David, who was sitting in the chair opposite, juggling Alexa on his knee. “She’s a mood dragon. She likes you. Who
 
are
 
you, anyway?”

“Melanie!”   her   mother   gave   an exasperated squeak. Rachel Cartwright, a slim, slightly sad-eyed woman, who wasn’t aged by a polo neck sweater and small    pearl    earrings,    looked apologetically at everyone present. “You have to forgive us. None of you were here when Melanie  and Lucy were just little girls. It was a bit impolite turning up like we did, but we hoped Lucy might be back from her holiday by now.”

Zanna put a tray of cups and saucers on

the table. “Holiday?”

“Visiting some dragon hill,” said Melanie, shrinking from the enquiring faces. “I got an email from her phone. Past tense.”

“She’s still there,” David explained. “She might be gone for another few days, I’m afraid.”

Melanie wormed her mouth into a pout.

David  resisted   smiling.   He  wasthinking, privately, what a combinationthese girls would have been. Feisty,cynical,   probably   competitive   –especially in the ‘look at me’ stakes. Butwhere  Lucy  was  naturally  stunning, Melanie’s beauty was more manufactured. Eye liner. Blusher. Tinny earrings. Goldhighlights in her nut brown hair. Attractive

and streetwise both of them, but really a world apart.

“I take it Liz is with her, then?” Rachel said. She began to help Zanna put out the

cups.

“Elizabeth’s not very well,” said Arthur. “She’s upstairs, in bed – asleep.”

“Oh dear. I’m sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?”

“Is it dragon pox?” asked Melanie, sitting on her  hands. She noticed the lines around Zanna’s eyes sharpen. “It’s what we used to say when we were kids. Just a joke.”

“Daddy, the dragon changed colour.” Alexa sat up erect. Glade’s ivy had just drifted across the spectrum, running from gold through watery green to blue.

“That means she’s sad,” said Melanie, shaking her head so her bob fell into place. “She’ll be upset about Lucy’s mum. Weird, isn’t it, the way she changes?”

Alexa clearly agreed. Before anyone could stop her, she began to comfort Glade in dragontongue.

“Gracious, that’s a nasty cough,” said Rachel.

“No, it’s not,” hooted Melanie. “Mum, you’re such a wuss. It’s a game. Me and Lucy used to play it all the time. It was our secret language for talking to the dragons. Lucy was
 
scarily
 
good at it. I’ll show you.” Leaning towards Glade she cried,

“
Arraarrgh!
”

On the fridge top, the startled listening

dragon closed the flap of its ear canal.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and Alexaopened her mouth into an ‘O’ toaccommodate the change in air pressure.

Glade’s ivy did not change colour.

“Yeah, like I say. Lucy was the queenat that game,” said Melanie.

“Tea?” asked Zanna, wearing a grin aswide as a saucer.

Melanie picked up the milk jug.

“Thanks. What’s that noise?”

“Just the cat flap,” Zanna said. It rattled

behind her.

“Oh, course, you’ve got a cat! Don’t tell me, his name’s a bit scooby, isn’t it? Bonbon or something?”

“Bonnington,” said Alexa, looking down.

That was the moment the niceties

ended. Quick to realise there might be a problem, Zanna tried to shoo Bonnington back the way he’d come. But the cat just chattered and swerved right past her, stopping to look up and frown at the visitors.

Melanie Cartwright screamed. Themilk she was holding sprayed across thetable, a good portion of it drenching Glade. And whether the tension just gottoo much or she felt she was in the

appropriate environment anyway, Glade raised her scales until she looked like a

pine cone and shook herself dry. Milk droplets flew in all directions. Some of them, of course, went Bonnington’s way. He gratefully began to lick his fur clean. But it had somehow never felt right to him,

drinking milk in the form of a tiger. So he morphed back into a tabby cat.

And Melanie Cartwright morphed into a faint.

“Mel?!” cried her mum, reaching to support the girl as she slumped. Zanna went swiftly to her aid as well, mouthing a quick
 
do something!
 
at David.

He moved Alexa off his knee. “Go and

fetch Gretel,” he whispered to her. The child hurried away. David turned to Rachel and spoke her name.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing you need concern yourself about,” he said. His eyes ran to violet and he dazzled her in a moment. Her head

nodded forward and she fell fast asleep.

“Well, this is priceless,” Zanna carped.

“I take it that’s two less for tea?” asked

Arthur, confirming it for himself when Bonnington jumped onto his lap. He turnedthe cat’s gaze onto Glade.

“It’s all right,” David reassured her indragontongue. “Don’t be alarmed. Yourhumans won’t be hurt and neither will

you.”

Glade tilted her ears and sniffed at him.

You’re dragon
 
, she hurred. Zanna sighedand looked away. Glade’s ivy sparkledlike a set of Christmas lights.

“Sometimes,” said David. “Will youdo something for me?”

Zanna half-expected the mood dragonto curtsy, but the moment was brokenwhen Alexa returned with Gretel on her

shoulder.

The potions dragon fluttered onto thetable and took a long and dangerous lookat Glade.

“Gretel, don’t frighten her,” Zanna said, as a shimmer  of defensive red now became the ivy’s dominant colour. “What is it you want Glade to do?” she asked David.

David put out his hand, encouraging Glade to hop onto it. “Would you like tosee Liz and the Dragons’ Den again?”

Hrrr
, she went. Her violet eyeswidened.

“Good,” he said, smoothing her wings. “Gretel, make sure our visitors don’t wake up.”

With a
 
hmph
 
of servitude, the potions dragon reached into her quiver for the

necessary flowers.

At the far side of the kitchen, Arthur

cleared his throat. “Would I be of more

use here?”

“No, you go up,” Zanna said to him quickly, knowing full well that he wanted to. Lately, he’d felt a little worthless, she thought. “I’ll stay here with Lexie.”

“But I want to see Glade,” the little girl sighed.

“Later,” said Zanna, ripping off a piece of kitchen roll. “You can help Mummy clean up the kitchen. You can start by dabbing the milk off our guests… ”

David took Glade to the bedroom first.

The little dragon flew straight to Liz’spillow. It reached out a paw and stroked

her hair. Sympathetic shades of blue from the ivy began to reflect off Liz’s pale skin.

“Don’t be upset. She’s only sleeping,” David said, as a  whimpering hurr escaped Glade’s throat. “Glade, listen to me carefully for a moment.”

The dragon turned her head.

“I know you read moods. What else can you do?”

She lifted her wings.
 
Grow things
 
, she hurred.

“Plants?”

She nodded.

“You look after them at home?”

Hrrr
, she said brightly. None of herhumans knew it, but yes.

Arthur’s mouth opened with a waterysmack. “One of Gwillan’s cherished

duties,” he said.

David sat down and felt for Liz’s hand.

It was slightly cold, but not dangerouslyso. “Do you know what dark fire is, Glade?”

The mood dragon brought her eyeridges together. From a distant part of herinnate memories the answer came to her. It

made her shudder.

“It’s within Liz,” David told her.

“Inside the baby she’s carrying.”

Glade looked for a swell in the duvet

and gulped.

“I want you to read her mood, and the child’s if you can. Put aside how you feel about seeing her like this and just show what you find. If it becomes too much, break away and read me instead. Do you

understand?”

Glade shifted her gaze towards Liz,

and nodded.

“Good. Off you go.”

The dragon found a comfortable dent in the pillow. Then drawing in a puff of her exhaled smoke, she squeezed her eyes shut and fell into a huddle of concentration. To

Arthur’s immediate relief, the ivy scalesbegan to show warmer colours, untilthey’d settled somewhere in the amberzone. “Are you reading Elizabeth now?”he asked. Liz’s eyelids, he noticed, wereno longer fluttering. It was the calmestshe’d been all day.

Glade gave out a lengthy
 
hrrrrr
.

“Are you
 
altering
 
her mood? Are youcapable of that?”

Glade frowned, flexed her shouldersand spoke a burst of dragontongue, far tooquick for Arthur to translate.

David leaned towards him and said, “She says she’s not consciously soothing Liz, but that Liz is somehow exploring herabilities and using them to level hermood.”

“Like a meditation state?”

“Sounds like it, yes.” David spoke to Glade himself. “Can you pick up the baby’s auma?”

The semicircular scales underneath

Glade’s eyes tightened as she redirectedher senses. She held this pose for severalseconds before giving a sudden jerk andflicking out her wings to steady herself.

“Go carefully,” David whispered.

“Feel it from a distance if you need to, Glade.   Imagine   you   were   tending something… growing.”

The dragon tried again. A few seconds passed. Her tail beat a syncopated rhythm against the pillow. Then, with a snort, she opened her eyes. Her ivy had not changed colour.

“Well?” David asked.

Glade sank down, frowning. She spokea word of disappointment:
 
hrrr
.

Arthur   stepped   back,   cupping Bonnington’s throat. “Is the baby… dead?”

Hrrr!
 
went Glade. The ivy rustled asshe shook her head.

David released his grip on Liz’s hand. “Not dead, Arthur, just not there. I thinkyou’d better come with me.” He picked

Glade up and hurried to the Den.

Sweeping a path through the enquiringdragons, most of whom had never seen amood dragon before (though Gruffenremembered her from many years ago) David put Glade on the workbench next to Gwillan, who had his head bowed lowlike a dragon in prayer. “Any change?” heasked Groyne.

There was no reply.

“Groyne!”