Vixen (19 page)

“Who?” Mom asks.

“My ex-husband. Though I suppose the term
ex
-husband implies there was a proper divorce, which there never was. My estranged husband, then.”

“What’s his name?” Dad asks.

“He’s gone by many names over the centuries. He’s a chameleon. He becomes whatever is most profitable in every age. He has worked with many factions, he has taken many sides, but he has only ever been on his own side, working for his own profit. He has deceived and betrayed many, including his own kind. Especially his own kind. Currently, he goes by the name Hans Wexler. It sounds so innocent, doesn’t it?”

We’re quiet again. It’s an uncomfortable silence, fed, in great part, by the seething anger that simmers just under Eudora’s words. I half expect her to leap to her feet and smash the wine glass against the wall at any moment. But no, she’s much too self-controlled for that.

To break the silence, I ask softly, “He’s a dragon?”

“Yes. A dragon,” Eudora moves the stem of the wine glass between her fingers so that the glass swirls, spinning a whirlpool with the remaining wine. “A beautiful, cadet-blue dragon. He looks so trustworthy. So pure. He is anything but.
Neutrality
. That is what the Swiss call it. To hear them say the word, you would think it a synonym for peace. But for Hans, neutrality means not having to pick sides. No allegiance means staying true only to himself. In every war, he has profited from both sides, gouging prices during the wars, looting afterward, and always, charging interest.”

Eudora sets her glass down. We’ve all been eating in nervous silence while she speaks. There’s a fat slab of nearly raw meat on her plate—she asked for it specifically when by father carved the beef. Now she uses her fork and knife to cut off a tiny, bleeding bite.

Once she’s eaten the morsel, she dabs at her lips with the linen napkin, then continues. “Hans was attracted to me, not just because I am a dragon, not just because I am beautiful, but because my color is similar to gold. But even that, I do not believe to be the real reason. He loved me for my mind—or for what my mind could do. Together, we created the yagi. Do you know their true purpose? To track dragons. To find dragons. I never intended them to kill dragons. It’s because of that unfortunate tendency that, for all their usefulness, I have decided I want them gone.”

“You want to destroy the yagi?” I’m surprised by the sound of my own voice. The question was burning inside me, and must have overcome the fear that’s been keeping my mouth (and everyone else’s) shut.

Eudora regards the last of the wine in her glass. She’s making a pouting face which I again suspect is an old habit formed to emphasis her lips. “I hate to see them go. They have their uses. I was so proud of them once. So hopeful. But the more centuries you spend on this earth, the more you realize—change must come. The old must die for the new to rise. It is time. Find the yagi factory and destroy it.”

While Eudora throws back the last of her wine, Ion says in a determined voice, “tell me where to find it, and I will go. I will destroy it.”

Before he’s even quite done speaking, Eudora starts choking on her wine. For a couple of frantic seconds I’m afraid maybe Rilla poisoned it or something. But no, I think it was just her surprise at Ion’s words that sent some wine down the wrong pipe.

“No, Ion, no.” Eudora gasps and clutches the table as though Ion’s suggestion is just too much. “You wouldn’t get anywhere with Hans. For one thing, I’ve gone to great lengths to convince him you’re dead. If he sees you alive, all my efforts will be for nothing. Besides, you’re a male. You won’t get anywhere with Hans.

“Life for life, Ion. You promised me Zilpha. She’s the one I want. She has the best chance of getting past Hans and destroying the yagi.”

Everybody pretty much starts freaking out then, and the silence is broken. Ion shouts that he’ll go, Felix insists that
he’ll
go, Rilla wants to know why I’m so perfect for the job, and not her. My dad stands up and starts demanding answers, but for whatever reason, it’s my mother’s voice that carries over everyone else.

“Why Zilpha? Just because she’s female? If you just need a female, why can’t
I
do it?”

While everyone’s demanding answers, Eudora calmly sets her empty wine glass on the table. She steeples her hands, running her fingers against each other in waves that patter with the sound of her fingernails sparring like so many tiny swords.

“Because, Ilsa,” Eudora states in a matter-of-fact tone, “you are too honest. You’re too clean, too pure. Hans is hundreds and hundreds of years old—even I don’t know how old he is. He’s been seeing through schemers since long before you were born. Zilpha’s the only one here who has any chance of getting past him.”

“Zilpha?” Both my parents start protesting, claiming I’m as honest as anybody. Felix and Rilla try to talk over them, demanding more information, wanting to know why Eudora thinks I’m more qualified than they are.

I sort of sink down into my chair and hope the conversation moves on before anybody notices me. Have my parents already forgotten that I lied about going on a ski trip? I lied to Ion about who I am and my intentions. I lied about a lot of things.

But how does Eudora know about that?

Ion leans over and whispers to me, “I told her how we met. She asked specific questions. I’m sorry. At the time, I was trying to get past her to destroy the yagi so we could be together. I didn’t foresee—”

“Does my father know the things you told her?”

“No. Eudora and I were alone at the time.”

Eudora raises those peaked eyebrows of hers, and the questions die down. She explains, “It has to be someone non-threatening to Hans. Therefore, no males. Preferably someone attractive. Any of you three ladies would do well enough for that. But most importantly, the individual will need to think on her feet. More than that, to
lie
on her feet—and lie well enough not to arouse any suspicions.” Her gaze settles on me, and for a second, I’m afraid she’s going to say I’ve proven myself capable in this arena.

Unsure what to say, but desperate for someone to say something before Eudora spills any more of my secrets, I’m relieved to hear Ion clear his throat next to me.

“You said you’ve gone to great lengths to convince your estranged husband that
I’m
dead? I don’t—do I know him?”

“He was there the night the Romanovs were murdered. I don’t know what his role was. I had assumed he was trying to help, but that may have been wishful thinking on my part.” Eudora stares at the last burgundy drop in the bottom of her wine glass as thought wondering how it escaped her thirst. “I arrived too late to know what happened, too late to help. I felt so futile. At that time, he and I had not yet become…involved. There was so much smoke. They told me dragons had died and burned. They were pulling out the human bodies and piling them in a truck. I saw you in the pile, and recognized you.”

“Me?” Ion questions in a whisper.

And I understand why he’s having trouble speaking. He told me his version of what happened. He tried to save Alexei, and woke up days later at Eudora’s. He assumed he’d fled like a coward.

But that’s not what we’re hearing now.

Eudora shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I recognized you. I knew you were a dragon. Dragons burn when they die—they spontaneously combust once the soul leaves the body—it’s a bit like the yagi, you know. They’re not stable. Once the chain of chemical reactions is stopped, they dissipate, reduced to the gaseous emissions of their component parts. Ashes to ashes, so are we. Mostly carbon.”

“Eudora?” Ion prompts, when her words give way to incoherent muttering and she contemplates her empty wine glass.

“Hmm? Ah yes,
you
. I knew you were not dead because you hadn’t burned. Everyone else assumed you were dead, because…” she laughs. Not a pretty laugh, but not her usual cackle. “It was all chaos and smoke and I felt so useless. I was too late to save anyone of consequence, so I did what I could. I saved you.”

Over the course of Eudora’s story, someone has taken away the bones of the first beef carcass and served up the second. I’m still not sure what the hanging
because
was about in Eudora’s story, but given what I’ve seen of Ion’s scars, I can guess. It’s not a point I’m going to ask her to elaborate upon. Everyone assumed Ion was dead because his injuries were so terrible.

I’ve been staring at Eudora the whole time she was speaking. Now I look at Ion.

He’s sitting there looking stunned, almost like he might cry, but he’s still too much in shock.

I’d reach over and squeeze his hand, but he’s holding his silverware poised above his plate, and to be honest, I don’t want to disturb him. If my guess is right, in his thoughts he’s a world away, nearly a century in the past, reliving something he almost didn’t live through the first time.

And hopefully, he’s realized he is not the failure he’s long thought himself to be.

My family members have been more than patient, listening to Eudora’s semi-drunken rambling while they ate their beef. But of course, they didn’t bring her here to hear about the night Ion almost died. They want to know how to destroy the yagi operation.

Dad rises and removes the second beef carcass, while my mom carries in the third. Dad picks up the big carving knife and gestures with it toward Eudora. “So, Hans Wexler is our target, hmm? We find him, we find the yagi operation? But I thought
you
were the one who created the yagi?”

“Oh, Hans was working on creating yagi since long before he met me. Do any of you know, what was Switzerland’s chief export in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries?”

“Watches?” Felix guesses.

“Clocks?” Rilla suggests.

I’m doing math in my head. The fifteenth century was the fourteen hundreds, Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492, so it was too soon for Swiss chocolate. Cocoa products would have been unknown in most of Europe until the sixteenth century. So I make my next best guess. “Cheese?”

“Mercenary soldiers.” Eudora punctuates her answer by slicing another bite of meat. Her knife hits her plate with an overly-loud
clink
.

“Soldiers?” I repeat. I could ask how that fits with the long-held Swiss position of neutrality, but didn’t she already say something about that? That being neutral means not having to pick sides—thereby making it possible to profit off both sides?

“The Swiss learned long ago that war can be profitable, so long as you don’t get tricked into taking a side,” Eudora explains. “They got paid to fight, and they got the first pick of the spoils of war. It’s a long Swiss tradition. But it’s not without a price, of course. They exported mercenary soldiers, they imported plunder and dead bodies.”

“Dead bodies?” I repeat, frowning at the beef on my plate. Maybe I’m not so hungry anymore.

“Their dead soldiers, returned back to them. And it seemed such a waste to Hans. Unlike those dead of disease or old age, the soldiers were still mostly good. He tried for centuries to figure out a way to recycle them, but it was like a riddle he couldn’t solve.”

As Eudora chews a tiny bite of meat, I’m pondering how Hans expected to recycle the dead. Sure, it sounds practical, but it also sounds heartless and freakish and scary. Sometimes even the greatest losses aren’t meant to be recovered.

Eudora swallows and continues. “Meanwhile, I was trying to solve riddles of my own. I wanted to understand what made dragons different from humans. New scientific discoveries were being made in the study of DNA, the microscopic buildings blocks that determine who we are. I traveled to learn from some of the best and brightest. My path repeatedly crossed with Hans’.

“In my mind, we were both working at parts of the same puzzle. He challenged me to find a way to make the mercenaries immortal. I almost succeeded.

“The yagi were an accident. A mistake. Cockroaches, you know, can survive nearly anything. By combining cockroach DNA with humans, I hoped to make a more resilient human. Over the course of many experiments, I discovered the threshold of success could only be crossed when I used more cockroach DNA than human. When I saw the resulting creature, I realized immediately I’d gone too far, but Hans was thrilled with the result. He told me it was perfect, and he loved me for it. And I let him. Yet another mistake.”

Eudora’s been slicing her meat into tiny bites. She leaves off the story to eat.

I look around the table at my family members.

Felix has eaten more than anyone, but now he pushes his plate away. “I thought you could control the yagi. They’re cyborgs, right? Part living creature, part computer.”

“Cyborgs, yes.” Eudora speaks past the morsel of meat in her mouth. “We originally were able to remotely control them using radio waves. That had its limitations. Once satellite technology advanced to the point of usefulness, we adopted that. But it’s Hans who controls them, mostly. I’m able to patch in, to send messages of my own, but I can’t truly override him.

“That’s the problem, you see. I thought I was solving a riddle. I thought I was helping move humanity toward the same immortality as dragons. But do you know what Hans does with the yagi? He uses them to hunt dragons. Not just to find dragons so we can unite with our own kind and work together, but to track them down like prey.”

Felix has been silently fuming in his seat the whole time Eudora explains. Now he pushes his chair back, the feet scraping loudly against the floor, turning all eyes to him. “You make it sound like you’re as much a victim as anyone else, but you gloss over the fact that you’ve used the yagi, too. They killed my grandmother. They hunted my mother.”

“That was all Hans’ doing, not mine,” Eudora argues.

Felix stays seated, though he looks like he might launch himself cross the table toward her. “You held my grandmother prisoner. You enslaved Nia.”

But Eudora is the first to stand. She points one bony finger at Felix. “Listen here. I tried to save your grandmother. If she would have worked with me, if she would have trusted me—”

“You wanted to make her only human!” Felix stands as well.

“The yagi don’t track humans. She’d have been safe if she’d gone along with my plan. She’d be alive.”

“But she wouldn’t be a dragon. None of us would be dragons.”

Eudora’s voice drops a frosty octave. “Don’t lecture me about being human, Child. I have my reasons for everything I do. I tried to explain them to you like civilized beings, but you’ve proven to me that dragons aren’t civilized. They don’t listen. They only fight. Pick your battle. We have a common enemy. Whether we can defeat him together, I do not know, but I am sure of this—you will not be able to defeat him without my help.”

She grabs her wine bottle by the throat and stomps out. The four guards look at my father, who waves them on after her, and they hurry to catch up.

Dad leans forward and places his face in his hands.

Mom pats his back.

Felix sinks back into his chair.

I look at Ion.

He still looks stunned.

Rilla—brilliant, insightful Rilla—is the first to speak. “How much of that do you think was lies?”

Felix nods. “She imprisoned Nia. For two years, Nia worked for her as a slave, and when Nia tried to escape, the yagi chased her back again. But according to Eudora, it was for Nia’s own good.” He glares in the direction Eudora disappeared, as if he’s half tempted to go after her yet, and demand further explanation.

“It’s a stretch of the truth, at best.” My father’s voice sounds almost regretful. “But I think she believes her own story. It’s hard to catch someone in a lie when they see themselves as the victim, or hero.”

Mom plucks up a handful of baby carrots from one of the relish trays. She starts pacing and munching. “I believe this Hans fellow does, indeed, exist. Obviously the yagi exist, obviously they’re cyborgs. Whether she controls them or Hans controls them, it makes little difference to us. If we want to destroy them…” Mom drops her speech mid-sentence and starts munching the carrots furiously.

“We’ve got to destroy them,” Rilla affirms. “With all the eggs soon to hatch, and new dragon babies to protect—it’s a dangerous world out there.”

“At the very least, I think we should try to find out what it’s going to take to destroy them,” Felix agrees. “She says she knows where Hans is making them? So we go there, we learn what we can, and then we decide whether it’s worth the risk of going in.”

“I’ll go,” Dad volunteers. He points at my mother even as she opens her mouth, presumably to volunteer, as well. “You need to stay here for Zhi, and be on hand in case Wren or Nia need you when the eggs hatch.”

“I’ll go,” I speak quickly, before anyone else can say anything more. “Eudora said I’m the one most likely—”

“I can’t imagine what she meant when she said that,” Mom protests. “I don’t think you need to go. You haven’t seemed well ever since the yagi attack. I don’t think you’re up to it.”