by Erin Johnson
"What? What is it? Are they okay?" My chest heaved.
He turned to Maple and me. "Yeah, they're fine." He addressed Wiley, Sam, Annie, and Yann. "Everyone's fine." He pointed. "The sign says it's exfoliation—I'm guessing the crabs eat your dead skin."
Iggy's flames turned a shade of pale green and I turned to the nearest waste bin and dumped what was left of my food. "Well—there goes my appetite."
"Oh!" Iggy scoffed at me. "Oh, you just lost it? Because of the crabs? Not because of the five pounds of food you devoured?"
I made a face at him.
Annie shrugged. "I'd try it."
"Oh look!" Maple tugged on my wrist and bounced with excitement. "There are the little green umbrellas Miss Sara said to look for."
I grinned at her. "You're really into this spa experience, huh?"
She glanced down, two pink circles glowing on her pale cheeks. "I've never been to one."
I frowned. "You've had a massage though?"
She shook her head and I lifted my brows. "A facial?"
She bit her lip. "No."
I slid an arm around her shoulders and grinned. "Oh, girl. We are gonna have the spa weekend of your life!"
She clasped her hands together at her chest.
I glanced at Hank, Wiley, and the others. "I say we let Maple pick what we do first?"
Everybody nodded their agreement, and Maple worried her lip. "So much pressure…."
Wiley shifted on his feet, and Cat, clinging to his head, spread his wings to stay balanced. "What does the boss choose?"
Maple rose on her toes for a moment, scanning the beach outside the spa, then settled back down on her heels. She pointed to the umbrellas. "I say let's try the signature treatment first."
20
The Sand Dragon
"Signature treatment it is!" Wiley saluted her and led the way over the wooden planks that formed a path a few inches above the beach. The hotel had a huge, second-story back balcony that opened out over the sand, almost like a pier. Big wooden posts supported it, and down at their base, in the shade under the balcony, small green umbrellas studded the sand next to long mounds. I grimaced. They almost looked like gravestones.
Dividing the spa property from the public beach was an enormous mound of sand, taller than Hank or Wiley. As we approached, we slowed, the walkway jammed by the crowd that gathered in front of the mound, pointing and talking in hushed voices.
A little boy in swim trunks hopped off the wooden plank path and darted for the sand pile. A woman, who I assumed was his mother, lurched after him and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away as she admonished him.
"That is a living dragon!" She shook her finger at the red-faced little boy. "We do not climb on or touch dragons. Do you understand?"
My jaw dropped. Dragon? I looked the sand mound over more closely. It was shaped like a crescent, higher in the middle, then tapering at the ends. Like a mountain range… or a dragon curled in on itself. The sand rose and fell almost imperceptibly. Was that the dragon breathing? A gust of steam shot up from the ground, and I screeched and grabbed Maple and Hank, who stood beside me. I tucked my face against Hank's shoulder and coughed—the air reeked of the rotten-egg smell of sulfur. I staggered back, trying to drag them with me. "There's a dragon, you guys! It's a dragon."
A few people in the crowd turned and frowned at me.
"Why isn't everyone screaming and running away?"
"I mean, it's a sleeping dragon." Wiley lifted his palms like that was enough of an explanation.
"Oh, sure, that makes it better," I scoffed. "And what happens when it wakes up?"
"They sleep for hundreds of years, dear." Annie looked it over. "Not a very big one, is it?"
Hank stepped away to read a sign, and I swiped at him. "Don't go closer to it!"
Grinning, he scanned the wooden placard. "Says the dragon settled in here about thirty years ago with her pile of riches, and Miss Sara built the spa around her. Her breath heats the sand and makes the signature Doragon Spa sand bath possible."
"If that treatment involves me being anywhere near that dragon, I am out, I'm telling you that right now."
Hank smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "It's true. Once a dragon nests and settles in for hibernation, they're extremely hard to wake."
Wiley lifted a long finger. "Unless you mess with their treasure."
Hank nodded. "This one probably won't wake up for another two hundred years… at least." He squeezed my hand again. "We'll be safe—I promise."
I gulped. I trusted Hank with my life, but did I really want to risk it for a day at the spa?
"Uh, Imogen?" Maple lightly cleared her throat. "You're hurting my arm."
"Sorry." I relaxed my grip on her slightly, but kept a wary eye on the sand lump as we edged past it and headed for the umbrellas.
A man in a broad straw hat and a simple green outfit that reminded me of doctors’ scrubs stood behind a tall, narrow desk just outside the shadow cast by the second-story balcony. Guests sunbathed and drank cocktails up above us as they looked out over the ocean. Right below them, green umbrellas stood in rows in the sand next to the mounds. I frowned—those had better not be baby dragons.
But as we neared the man at the desk, I made out faces! Those were people, buried in the dark sand, only their heads visible. The little umbrellas appeared to be there to shade them. Right now the balcony above kept their heads cool, but I could imagine that at different times of the day the umbrellas might be needed to block the sun. Still… what in the seas were they doing?
"Welcome." The middle-aged man behind the desk leaned forward and scanned our little group. "Here for the signature Doragon Spa treatment?" He grinned and waved an arm behind him.
My friends and I looked around at each other. Hank stepped forward as our spokesman. "I believe so."
"Ah." The man's grin widened and he leaned his elbows on the desk, getting closer. He waggled his eyebrows. "First time?"
I nodded along with Maple and the others.
He took a huge breath, and turned behind him and shouted, "First timers!"
Four other men, dressed in the same straw hat and green cotton uniform, looked up from where they stood over the buried people. They waved and smiled. "Welcome!" One wore a cotton scarf over the lower half of his face, while another crouched low and used his kerchief to dab at a customer's sweaty brow. The other two used their shovels to bury a couple in the sand.
The man at the desk whirled around, hopped off his stool, and hurried over to us. "Come, come. We'll get you all taken care of." He ushered us to the side of the hotel, gave us lovely green-and-blue flowered yukata to wear—the island's light cotton robes. We separated into girls and guys and changed into them behind woven straw screens under the shade of the balcony.
Annie chuckled as the cotton robe she tied around her waist fluttered in the breeze. "Feels a little scandalous, changing out here in the open like this."
I grinned. It did—but also wonderfully free.
Maple hugged herself as she wrapped her fingers around the edges of her sleeves. "It's so soft." We left our clothes in lockers built into the side of the hotel. A swirl of sparkles burst into the air as I shut mine, and left what looked like a tattoo of a key on my wrist. I held my arm up as my heartbeat picked up. "Tell me this isn't permanent."
Annie chuckled. "Of course not, dear. It's magical—it'll dissolve when you open your locker."
When we rejoined the boys, I gave Hank a once-over. I'd planned to tease him a little about the dress-like robe, but he actually looked good in it—really good. The cut showed off his broad shoulders and the tie accentuated his trim waist.
He lifted a brow at me as I looked him over. "I'm not a piece of meat, you know."
I burst out laughing and took his hand. We made our way back to the man at the desk. He clapped when he saw us. "You all look great! Follow me." He hopped off the wooden walkway and marched barefoot through the sand.
We followed,
and I shuffled along as quickly as I could in the long robe, my steps tiny and quick over the hot sand. I relaxed when we made it into the shade. The man glanced side to side, then jerked his head to the left. "This way."
I cast a sideways glance at the people we passed. They had white towels wrapped around their necks, the rest of their bodies buried. There were men and women, young and old—all silent, eyes closed. My stomach clenched as I lingered for a moment in front of a young woman and watched her sand until I saw it rise and fall. Alright, she was breathing—that was a good sign.
"Okay, here." The man in the straw hat spread his arms wide at an empty stretch of sand. He turned around and gestured at the sea. "You have a good view from here." He beamed at my friends and me. "Who's first?" He looked past us and waved. I glanced behind me. A couple of the other workers in green scrubs picked up shovels and trudged through the sand toward us.
"We'll go." Grinning, Hank lifted our clasped hands.
21
Buried Alive
I shot Hank a look and he handed Iggy in his lantern back to me.
I sniffed. "I'm not so sure I'm into this whole buried alive thing."
"Come, come." The man waved us over. "Lie down."
"Okay." I shot Maple a worried look as I tucked my robe closed and sat on the warm sand. I set Iggy beside me, then lay down. Hank did the same to my left, a couple feet over.
"We'll be your sandmen today." The guy in the hat gestured to his coworkers, who bowed their heads. I lifted my head to bow, then laid it back down on the sand—it was getting warmer and warmer the longer I lay on it. I turned my head and flashed my eyes at Hank, my lips pulled into a tight line.
His eyes sparkled as he grinned back. "It's fun."
I sniffed. Sure.
"Okay, here goes. Ready?" The man lifted a huge pile of sand onto his wooden shovel and held it above me.
I shook my head, but he ignored me and dumped it on my legs.
"Arms tight to your sides."
I did as instructed, though I looked at Wiley (with Cat perched on his shoulders), Maple, Yann, Sam, and Annie, begging them with my eyes for help. Was this normal? Was this a normal thing people did? Panic made my heart beat faster.
The man shoveled again and again as the other two went to work burying Hank.
"Did you see our dragon?" The sandman lifted his chin toward the mound we'd passed earlier.
I whimpered and nodded as my legs completely disappeared under hot sand.
"She heats this part of the beach—that's why the sand's so hot."
I jumped as a pile landed heavily on my stomach. Oof. I regretted eating all that food on a stick.
"And why are we doing this?" I grimaced at Hank, but he lay with his eyes closed, face peaceful. Was he enjoying this?
"Oh, it's helpful for many diseases! Indigestion, asthma, magic activation dysfunction. It improves circulation and helps with weight loss. It can also really get your psychic connections tuned." The sandman grinned as he buried my upper half. The weight of the sand shocked me, pinning my arms to my sides. I couldn't have lifted them if I'd wanted to.
He pulled a white cotton towel from his back pocket and wrapped it around my head and under my chin, then used his hands to scoop some sand around my neck and under my head like a pillow. He crouched down. "Comfortable?"
I let out a squeak.
He cleared his throat, and a sand hourglass magically appeared in his hands. He lifted his brows significantly as he tipped it over and the sand began to run. He set it down next to Iggy's lantern, where I could see it if I really craned my neck. "Fifteen minutes, all right? Twenty maximum—more than that and it's dangerous."
I frowned. "Dangerous?"
"You could overheat." He smiled. "I'll be back to check on you soon." He stood and turned to my friends. "Who's next?" Between the man and his two friends, all of my friends were buried within a couple of minutes, with Maple on my right, followed by Wiley, Yann, then Annie and Sam.
My eyes shifted to the left—I was so packed in, I couldn't even turn my head. "Iggy—I can't see Hank. How's he doing?"
My flame sniffed. "Can you hear him?"
I listened. Below the sound of the waves and the clunk of footsteps overhead came a gentle snore.
"Oh my sands—is he asleep?" I clicked my tongue. How dare he enjoy this! I whimpered and tried to wriggle my arms free, but couldn't move—at all. I sniffed and spoke in a hushed voice. "Good for asthma? I can hardly breathe."
My heartbeat thundered in my ears and I felt on the verge of passing out. Between the heat and weight of the sand and the claustrophobia that was closing in, I thought I might lose it. I willed myself to take breaths through my nose. "Maple? You there? I promise not all spa treatments feel like torture."
She giggled, and though I couldn't see her, I knew she was there to my right. "It's strange… but kind of fun."
I rolled my eyes. Not her, too. "I feel like this is some weird kind of justice… like what goes around comes around."
Iggy snorted. "What are you talking about? Have you gone delirious?"
I gulped. "We're bakers, right? And here we are—getting baked alive." I whimpered as a bead of sweat trickled from my temple. "I'm sorry, all you cakes and breads. I'm so sorry for doing this to you—please forgive me and free me from this hell."
Iggy scoffed. "This is pretty dumb. I mean, I could just heat you up anytime." He rolled his eyes. "Crawl in a grave, put me in there, done. Save yourself whatever exorbitant price these people are charging."
"Don't talk to me about graves right now." I pressed my eyes shut tight. "How long has it been? Is the sand almost gone?"
"Not even close."
I groaned. "Iggy, you've got to distract me, or I'm going to lose it." My hairline tickled where beads of sweat gathered, and I could feel my limbs getting slippery under the sand.
"All right." Iggy turned from side to side. "We've got a toddler who just wiped out when a wave caught her off guard, pretty funny." He scanned the beach. "A giggling group of young women just showed up and the sandmen are being very attentive." Iggy narrowed his eyes. "I bet it's a hen’s do."
I peeled an eye open. "A what?"
"Bachelorette party to you, Miss America."
I frowned. "They better not forget about the rest of us."
"Oh this is interesting."
"What?"
"Shh. I'm listening." Iggy peeked his head out of his lantern, but jerked back when the ocean breeze guttered his flame. "I can't hear what they're saying, but Miss Sara's back by the changing screens having what looks like a heated conversation with a big, fat guy."
"What's going on?"
"They're standing close together and she looks pissed."
"Is anyone near them?" I tried unsuccessfully to turn my head.
"No. They're kind of hidden back there. He's bowing a lot and just grabbed her hand—oh! She pulled it back. She is mad."
I bit my lip. She'd been mad earlier when she'd read the card that came with the flowers. Could this be the N.S. who sent them?
"Oop! She just stormed off…. He's collecting himself…. He's coming this way!"
22
Reborn
I glanced at Iggy. My heart still labored to beat under the weight of the sand, but oddly, I was starting to find the heaviness kind of pleasant. "You know… this isn't so bad, all of a sudden."
Iggy narrowed his eyes at me, skeptical.
"Growing up, my adopted uncle had this dog that freaked out during thunderstorms, so he got her this tight vest—it really helped her relax." I closed my eyes. "I think I know how Bluebell felt now, and why babies like being swaddled."
"I think your brain is swaddled." Iggy lowered his voice. "The big guy's coming over, just behind the hen—the bachelorette party."
Our sandman passed in front of me, his smile stretched wide. "This way, ladies, this way. My, so many beautiful women!" He watched them, walking backwards, then tripped and righted himself.
> I rolled my eyes. Someone was laying it on thick. I opened my mouth to ask him to wipe my forehead or check on my timer, but he only had eyes for the bachelorette and her friends. The ten or so cute ladies shuffled past, smiling and chatting, wearing cotton robes that matched ours. A few of the other sandmen trailed behind, their shovels at the ready. None of them spared a glance for us.
"What's a girl got to do to get some attention around here?" I took a gasping breath, my arms and legs completely immobile under all the dirt.
"Maybe if you showed a little more skin…."
I shot Iggy a look and he cackled—then cut off and flashed his eyes at me, jerking his head.
A round man who looked to be in his midforties passed in front of us, trailing behind the ladies. His jet-black hair was slicked back, the sides of his head shaved in a stylish cut, and he wore trendy round glasses. He sported the same robe as the rest of us, and walked with his chin up, looking down his nose.
His face scrunched up and he covered his mouth as he yawned. He blinked his bleary eyes and shook his head as if to clear it. If this was the guy who'd just had a heated argument with Miss Sara, it didn't seem to have bothered him much. He looked like he was about ready for a nap.
The sandman with the kerchief round his nose jogged up and tapped the round man on the shoulder from behind. He turned and lifted a brow. The sandman, shovel in hand, jerked his head to the side, motioning for him to follow, and the round man turned back and was led the other way.
"That was the guy," Iggy hissed.
I lowered my brows. "Are you sure he and Sara were arguing? He looks incredibly relaxed."
Iggy's mouth disappeared for a moment. "I'm sure. But that was weird, wasn't it?"
I reminded him about the flowers and the card we’d read earlier. "Maybe that's her secret lover."