Vixen (25 page)

So the three of us take off and fly east as fast as we can fly, which considering that Rilla hasn’t slept since we left Romania, isn’t so terribly fast. But she’s got a good dose of fear fueling her flight, and we make it out of the storm and back into the springtime of Bulgaria, and all the way to the coast of the Black Sea before morning, where we set down and Rilla barely gets the backpack off her back before she falls asleep (I suspect she may have been essentially dozing as she flew for the last hundred miles, but then again, I’m in a daze, myself).

“What happened back there?” Dad asks once he’s back in human form.

I’m human again, too, clad in my usual dragon undergarments that shrink into something like a bikini when I’m in human form. And I’m holding my face in my hands and pacing. “I don’t know. Ion pushed me out the skylight and said he was right behind me.” I’ve been hoping, ever since we flew away, that he would catch up to us. He said he would. I look west as though he might come barreling out of the clouds any second.

“This is where we camped last night,” Dad assures me. “He’ll look for us here.”

I suck in a shaky breath and nod my head, and Dad offers to hunt us up something to eat, and I nod because I don’t trust my voice.

Dad turns back into a dragon and flies away, leaving me with my sleeping sister and a zillion questions.

How did I turn into a dragon when I couldn’t before? Was it all that iron I ate? Maybe the lightning activated it like it activated the cockroach DNA in the yagi, or whatever crazy science that was.

What happened back there? Did Wexler’s place blow up? Did we successfully destroy it?

And most importantly, what happened to Ion?

Dad brings back meat and I eat. We both agree we should wake Rilla, and she eats a little but falls back asleep before it’s even all gone, which makes me realize how exhausted I am, so I lie down on the ground, too.

And I must have fallen straight to sleep, because the next thing I know, I hear a familiar voice.

“I hate to wake you, but I need your help.”

I sit up and blink. It’s daytime. Ion’s on his back, lying on the ground next to me in human form, pale and bloody. So bloody.

“What happened?”

His voice is weak, too. “I fought Wexler. He was winning. Then the lab exploded and I don’t know what happened. I blacked out. When I woke up, I was pinned under a heavy beam. I couldn’t get it to budge, but then I remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

Ion’s face is deathly pale, and for a second or two, I’m afraid he’s passed out. But then he whispers, “I can teleport.”

He’s no more than said that than he really does pass out, or else is resting so much he looks passed out. It makes little difference to me. I have to help him.

He’s such a bloody mess I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know what’s injured and what’s not. I grab the backpack from over by Rilla, and pull out the travel-size first aid kit, when seems so utterly insufficient for the job at hand.

“Dad, I hate to wake you—”

“What is it?” Dad sits up when I nudge his shoulder.

“Ion’s here and he’s wounded, and I need help.” I shuffle over to where Ion is lying on the ground. “I need bandages, I need to clean him up—”

“Here.” Dad looks like he wants to ask questions, but at the same time, he seems to realize Ion needs help, fast. Dad upends the backpack, dumping the contents onto the ground. “I’ll get water.” He darts away with the backpack.

I rummage through the things he dumped out for clothes I can use as bandages.

Dad is back a minute later, the backpack dripping, filled with water.

I dunk a t-shirt and wring out some of the excess before dabbing gently at Ion’s wounds. As the blood gets cleared away, I can see what we’ve got to deal with. He’s got some bruises and abrasions, but the most noticeable injuries are the three parallel gashes in his side. Dragon talons for sure. He wasn’t kidding when he said he fought Hans Wexler.

“You’re going to have to sew him up,” Dad concludes after inspecting the cuts.

I rifle through the pile of stuff Dad dumped from the backpack, and find the tiny travel sewing kit. It looks even feebler than the first aid kit, but there are a couple of needles and plenty of thread. It should be enough.

Dragons aren’t generally known for their exquisite needlecraft, but I’m not too bad at mending. The fact that I’m mending the man I love means I take extra care with my stitches, even though I’m totally starting to cry because I feel like I’m hurting him (he’s completely passed out—but thankfully, still breathing).

“Hey, keep that over the body,” Dad says, suddenly pushing my head closer to Ion.

“What?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Tears.” He gives me a look like the answer is obvious.

I shake my head slightly to let him know I’m way too traumatized to do my own thinking right now.

“Dragon tears,” Dad explains. “They have healing properties. Some even say, miraculous healing properties. Your mom cried on me when Ion almost killed me. She probably saved my life.”

Now I remember. I’ve heard this story. And I realize something else, too.

Ion cried on me at Wexler’s laboratory.

He cried a ton of dragon tears and they dripped all over me.

Ion gave me back the ability to turn into a dragon. It wasn’t his kisses that did it. It was his tears.

Now I really need to make sure he doesn’t die.

Dad’s shaking his head about Ion’s gashes. “How did he ever manage to fly here with injuries like that?”

“He didn’t. He teleported.”

Dad’s quiet for a minute. I glance up from my work long enough to see his puzzled face. Then I go right back to stitching.

“You know, when we went to Siberia, Ion asked me if I knew anything about teleporting. I told him I’d heard the word a few times. I know what it means, but I didn’t think it was possible.”

“It’s possible. I’ve seen Ion do it. But you can only jump to places you know, and the farther you jump, the more energy it drains from you, which is probably why Ion is passed out right now. Ion also told me—” I start, then clamp my mouth shut.

“Told you what?”

“Just that your dad knew how to teleport.” I bite my lip and hope Dad doesn’t get upset.

But he sounds reflective when he speaks. “That may have been. He promised he was going to teach me something important, but then he died.”

“Oh, Dad!” Now I really clamp my mouth shut again, because I’m not sure how to tell Dad what I suspect, I don’t even know what kind of proof I have, other than some hints and intuition.

“What?” Dad’s clearly not going to roll over and go back to sleep now, not until I tell him what I was about to say, especially not considering the topic we were discussing.

“It just that Ion was in dragon form back at Wexler’s castle, and Hans threw a shackle and it clamped around his ankle, and he turned into a human.” It’s a clue, one tiny clue, and I don’t know how to tell my father that I know how my grandparents supposedly died, but I’m not convinced they’re really dead.

Thankfully, Dad makes the connection. “He was in dragon form? The magnetized shackle turned him human, hmm?”

“It seemed like a move Hans Wexler was used to making. Like maybe he’d done it before.” I don’t want to say too much. The story of the day my grandparents died, or went missing, or whatever happened—that’s my father’s story to tell. He was there. I wasn’t.

But I do have another clue I can give him. “You know how Eudora said she saved Ion out of the truckload of dead bodies the night the Romanovs were killed? That was the last time he saw his parents alive. He always assumed they were killed, because if they weren’t dead, then where could they be, right? But back at the castle, Wexler recognized Ion, and he said something about Ion’s parents, and he looked back toward the door that led to the main part of the castle, and he stopped talking suddenly, but I got this impression…” I don’t know how to say this last part.

But my dad knows me well, and he can see where my story is going. “Like maybe they were there, somewhere?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it? If he kept them chained up with magnetized shackles, in a dungeon, maybe underground or something? Eudora and Hans kept talking about how he wanted female dragons. I don’t know what he might be up to, but from what I saw, it could be anything.”

Dad’s got this stunned look on his face that’s equal parts sad and hopeful. “My parents disappeared when I was a boy. No one knows what happened, exactly. We’d always assumed they died, because their attackers flew off alone. But they fled carrying large bags—we presumed it was loot. But if shackles can force a dragon back into human form…and if Wexler wanted dragons, live dragons…” Dad swallows and looks to the west, as though he could see all the way from Bulgaria to Switzerland and learn the answer.

“I think we need to go back.”

“I agree. Soon. But we need to get home and tell everyone what we’ve learned. Ion is injured. I realized as I was waiting for him to come back out of the castle, that perhaps we’d underestimated our enemy. And then I saw you fly out of there, and I followed you, and—” Dad shakes his head. “We need to be prepared before we go back. At the very least, we need to tell others what we’ve learned, in case we go in and don’t come out again.”

“I agree.” I’m done sewing Ion’s injuries, and I’m not sure what else I could possibly do to help him right now. For the record, I cried a bunch of tears, and even let them splash directly on his wounds.

That should help, right?

“Let’s get some sleep.” Dad shuffles back to the spot where he was resting. “We’ll get it all sorted out later.”

*

Later, when it’s dark out and safe to fly home, Dad catches some fish out of the Black Sea, and Rilla and even Ion wake up in time to eat. Ion is so weak that even though he has an appetite, he doesn’t eat a whole lot. I feed him small portions and make sure he drinks plenty of water, but beyond that, I don’t know what to do.

Wrapping him in whatever clothes we find in our backpack and among Dad’s supplies, I take the first shift carrying him in my talons. We make it across the Black Sea like that, and then Dad takes Ion for the last leg.

I’m a little reluctant to let Dad carry Ion, but my wings are exhausted from the effort of flying with him. And besides that, all Dad’s previous antagonism toward Ion seems to have evaporated.

We get home and everybody wants to know what happened. Mom’s peeved at me and Rilla for sneaking away right under her nose like that, and Felix is steamed that we went on an adventure without him (though he’s had tons of adventures without me, so I point out it’s only fair).

We fix a huge meal and sit around the table to eat and share our stories. Of course Ion and I have the most to tell, but Ion is still crazy weak so I do most of the talking.

When I get to the part where Ion tried to destroy the centrifuge, everybody wants to clarify exactly what happened.

“So, did Ion destroy it?” Dad bellows over everyone else.

“Technically, after Ion tried to destroy it and Hans chained him up, I threw the knife that hit the centrifuge,
but
” I raise one finger to stop everyone from trying to interrupt me with questions, “you didn’t say Ion had to destroy the centrifuge. You said he had to destroy the yagi operation. And he did that. He made sure I got out alive, and then he stuck around and wrestled Wexler until everything had exploded, and he very nearly didn’t make it out alive. So he did what you told him to do.”

For once, everyone is quiet.

Ion takes my hand. “We did it. Together.” And then he leans over and kisses me right on the lips, and nobody even tries to stop him.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Rilla waves her hands like she’s erasing our kiss from her memory. “I want to know what happened to Eudora and Hans Wexler.”

Ion and I stop kissing and look into each other’s eyes.

“Do you know?” I ask him.

“It was all snow and destruction when I woke up. I was pinned to the ground. I couldn’t see much of anything. I don’t know what happened.”

“Did they survive?” Felix asks.

Ion gives a tiny shrug before wincing and pressing one hand to the injury at his ribs. “I survived. So I suppose it’s possible.”

From there, Dad launches into an explanation about the possibility that his parents might be alive, which leads to discussion over whether Ion’s parents might still be alive, which leads to a lot of moist eyes in the room and plans being made.

Basically, everybody agrees we need to get back to Switzerland as soon as we can and see what we can turn up. But we also agree that we need to be more prepared since we oh-so-nearly didn’t make it out alive before. And this time, when we say we’re doing reconnaissance, we need to stick to it.

With that all decided, Dad and Rilla excuse themselves to get some rest. Mom and Felix clean up the dishes, and I help Ion to the guest room.

“Speaking of plans...” His voice is still weak, but his eyes are sparkling. I remember mere weeks ago, wondering what these eyes would look like up close.

I had no idea what I was getting into then, did I?

We pause near the library and lean against the doorframe so Ion can catch his breath.

He takes my hands in his. “I need to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For rescuing me.”

Knowing dragons don’t like being rescued, I blow out a dismissive breath. “I did nothing. You had it all under control. I mostly got in the way.”

“You rescued me,” Ion insists, squeezing my hands. “And not just from Hans Wexler’s castle. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. When I awoke under that beam, I thought it was over. I knew, even if I tried to teleport, that it might take everything I had, and I wouldn’t make it, anyway. I thought—I’m a failure. I always have been. But then I remembered what you said.” He gives me a meaningful look like I’m supposed to recite whatever it was I said, like it’s going to be the mantra of our relationship, and maybe we should get it embroidered on matching pillows.

Which would be cool.

There’s just one problem.

“I don’t remember what I said. I say a lot of things. Sometimes, when I get nervous, I babble.” Like right now.

Ion smiles. The guy is good looking normally, but when he smiles…wow. “You told me I’m not a failure. You said you thought of me as a hero, that you wished I could see me the way you see me. But I realized if I was ever going to see myself through your eyes, I’d have to see you again. And I thought of you with such longing…normally, when I teleport, I consciously think about teleporting. And yes, it had occurred to me that your father might have gone with you to the place where we camped the night before, but it wasn’t that thought that drew me.
You
drew me to you.”

I don’t even know what to say, then. I feel a happiness that’s bigger than any I’ve ever known before. Words seem insufficient. “Maybe,” I joke, “it was all the iron supplements I took.”

Ion laughs then—not so much because my joke was even funny, but more as though he feels this same happiness I feel, and it’s overflowing audibly. And unlike the slightly creepy laughter he used to laugh when I first met him, this laughter sounds like that of an innocent child, and I realize the haunted look behind his eyes is completely gone.

This guy? He’s a distinguished gentleman from a lost golden age, he’s the child from 1918, he is my Ion, all in one, none of them hiding any longer.

His expression sobers after a moment. “I know you’re planning to go back to school in the fall. I don’t wish to interfere with that in any way. I’ve been alone so many years, a little longer is nothing. But Zilpha?”

“Hmm?”

“I was hoping—seeing that your parents don’t despise me anymore—and in light of my unending affection for you…” His usual eloquence is failing him, and the injury at his side appears to be paining him, and he has given quite a long speech already, all things considered, so I fill in what I suspect he might be trying to say.

“Will you marry me?”

Ion’s eyes sparkle, and he smiles. “Yes, will you?”

“Yes!”

Somehow I get him safely to rest, and over the next couple of weeks, he recovers his strength. By then, we’ve made whatever plans we can for our reconnaissance mission. Rilla has gone back to Montana for her summer school course. And Mom stays behind in case Zhi needs her—although Zhi is doing much better these days.

So Dad, Felix, Ion and I take off for Switzerland.

And it’s a little weird. Maybe it’s because I didn’t fly last time—just rode on Rilla’s back. Or maybe it’s because it’s summer now, not just late spring, and there’s less snow, so everything looks different.

The tallest peaks are still covered in snow near where Hans Wexler’s castle was.

I say
was
, because we can’t find it.

I mean, it’s gone.

We can’t even find where it used to be when it was there, which it clearly no longer is.

I try to trace the route Rilla flew. I see similar sights, things I recognize, even the castle with the ski lift (how many of those can there be?). I know we’re looking in the right region, but there’s no sign of the castle anywhere, and neither Dad nor Ion nor I can even be sure which peak it was on.

Felix insists it couldn’t have all disappeared so quickly. It must be buried under the snow somewhere. He and my father dig several pilot holes in likely-looking spots, but they don’t find anything.

Anywhere.

We can’t even find it on the google maps, or anything.

It’s just gone.

So with great reluctance and vows to continue the search, whatever form that might take, we return home.

There’s one thing we all agree on: Wexler and/or Eudora must have survived. There’s no way everything could have disappeared, even if there was a huge explosion, not without leaving a debris trail all around.

We didn’t find any debris, so whatever there was must have been cleaned up, probably to hide the evidence of everything Wexler was up to, which means Wexler and/or Eudora are still out there.

Somewhere.

But we can’t do anything more than continue to be cautious and vigilant, as we’ve always been. And besides, I have plenty to distract me. I finish my studies by cramming a couple extra classes into my fall semester. And I do the dishes just as I promised Rilla.

And then we return home for holiday break for my winter wedding.

By this time, Ion is on good terms with everyone. My parents trust him. And Ion, for his part, has become less cynical and more cheerful. He smiles a lot.

Especially when I give him massages.

Speaking of, I need to order more of that sensual massage oil. We’re running low.

The End