by Rena Rocford
Beth’s head whipped around. “You said we were going to do it like they did in The Sound of Music.”
“Don’t you remember that scene where they race motorcycles through the alps?” Felix asked.
“There wasn’t a scene with–you’re not?” Beth asked, but she hastily stuffed the helmet onto her head.
“Now,” Felix whispered.
I yanked the chain, drawing it down, hand over hand as fast as I could. The rattling chain clanked, and the metal slats of the door banged up the tracks. Felix kicked the bike starter and revved. The rolling door came to a stop at the top with a slam, and Beth kicked her bike to life. Without hesitating, she sped off into the night. Felix grabbed my arm as I jumped, tossing me onto the bike behind him, and we flew out of the garage after her. Trees zipped past, caught in our tiny cone of light for less than a second.
If Felix made a mistake here, we were dead.
We caught up to Beth in no time, and we led the way down the mountain. The road flew by, tree, tree, cactus, sagebrush.
At nearly halfway down the mountain, the engine sputtered and died. We coasted downhill, before Felix put his foot down, sliding the rear wheel out to the side.
“What’s wrong?” Beth asked as she pulled up behind us.
He pushed a button on the handlebars, and the engine gave a sad gurgle and choked to a stop. “My Dad must have had someone siphon off the gas.” He jammed the kickstand into the ground.
“Bea thought he might.” She turned to the back of her bike, where two red cans were strapped down. “Will this be enough?”
Felix looked at me. “Is it?”
I leaned back. “Why are you looking at me? I don’t know anything about motorcycles.”
“But what’s the plan?”
I froze. I thought I’d given him enough information to make a plan.
“Uh–well–I mean, plan sounds so formalized.”
“You don’t have a plan?”
“I know about as much as you. Something is happening at Pier 22 1/2 tonight. We go there, we might find out what.”
“What are we going to find at this pier?”
“If we’re lucky, my aunt and a unicorn.” Then we’d have everything we needed to take care of my father.
“If we’re not lucky?” Felix asked.
“My aunt and a unicorn.”
Felix exchanged a look with Beth before they both cocked their heads at me.
“In the letter my father wrote, he said the only way out of being controlled by Kurt was to kill him. He gave my aunt a special sword to do it.”
Felix’s white eyes shown through the darkness.
My eyes stung, and I couldn’t hold his gaze. “I guess you’d like that plan.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Allyson, if your father is being controlled, then I know who needs to have a special sword stuffed through his heart, and it’s not your dad.”
“Still begs the question, is this going to be enough gas?” Beth asked holding up the tank.
Felix nodded. “We’ll just be a little more conservative until we get to a gas station.”
I checked my pocket but I didn’t have much money left. “How much money do we have?”
Beth shook her head. “Not much. I had to abandon it in the car. I have a couple twenties, but that’s it.”
“We don’t have to be crazy. If Dad thinks I’m about to run out of gas, he won’t be in much of a hurry to send anyone out for us.”
“Wouldn’t he be worried Beth might have come too?” I asked.
“Nope,” Beth said. “He’s offered me protection against the unicorns.”
“Then why are you coming?” I asked.
“Honestly, Drake, you’d get lost without me. Besides, I can’t let the damned monohorns have access to my trust fund. Those bastards have enough money as it is.”
“I’m glad you came, Duke City,” Felix said.
“Duke City?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s what they call Albuquerque. Like New York is the Big Apple and Hollywood is Tinsel Town.” He pointed at Beth like she was the embodiment of all of Albuquerque. “Duke City.”
Beth play punched him in the arm, and Felix winced. I knew from experience, those play taps hurt. “That’s for lying to me.” She hit him again, a little harder, and he hissed. “That’s for profaning The Sound of Music.”
“Come on, Duke, we haven’t got all day.”
Beth smiled. “I kind of like Duke.”
The Day Before
y legs and butt burned with fatigue, but the rest of my body ached from the cold. Snow rimmed the mountains around Reno.
We had to stop often as we rode through the snow and ice corridor, riding in short spurts between truck stops, and all the while, the sun kept marching toward the horizon.
My stomach hurt. I was leading my friends to their death. Joe had tried to warn us, but Felix was determined. The unicorns were going to kill Beth, so it was lead my friends to their death and do everything I could, or watch them die in other ways.
Even with the frequent stops to warm our fingers, we made it to Sacramento by six in the afternoon. We bought gas, and I lamented once more the loss of the MGB, with all of Beth’s money. It didn’t solve problems, but it sure made things comfortable. We found a taco truck with burritos for a dollar each, and turning out our pockets, we came up with just enough money in loose change. We bought three stale burritos and ate them on a log next to the bikes.
Wolfing down her burrito, Beth looked at the bike, now transformed from cool toy to giant torture device. “I wish we still had the car.”
“Me too. I guess we’ll have to clear your name so we can get it back for my aunt.”
“And the bullet holes?”
“I’d forgotten about the bullet holes. But that’s what body shops are for.”
“Someone shot at you, and you forgot about it?” Felix asked.
“Honestly, flying totally overrides everything that happened before.”
Felix smiled, as if remembering something. “It’s better than anything. Racing is a close second.”
“I hate races.” I turned away, pretending to study my hands. I especially hated racing to a city where a bunch of trolls were going to be waiting.
“That tells me you’ve never been prepared. To win races, you have to train, and hard. My family has a long history of bringing home trophies, so when we go to a race, we have a game plan. Everyone knows their role, and there’s a whole team of support.”
Beth snorted. “What, it’s not all about the talent?”
Felix scrunched his lips to the side but kept chewing. “I’d be lying if I said talent didn’t factor in. But the truth with racing is there are three things that have to meld together to win every race: the bike, the prep, and the talent. Without one of the three there’s still some hope; but let’s face it, if you’re racing on a bad gearbox, there’s not a lot you can do about it.” He took another bite.
Beth grinned. “Well, we’ve got the bikes and the talent. Two out of three ain’t bad. How are we going to win?”
I shrugged. “Pier 22 1/2 and pray, I guess.”
Beth stuffed the rest of her burrito into her mouth, and swallowed without chewing. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Felix stood and offered me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up. He seemed to be handling the grueling endurance race better than Beth and I, but he’d probably trained for it.
As he prepped to kick start the bike, he turned back to me. “Prayers are great and all, but in a race, we always have a plan.”
Before I could think of an answer, he kicked the bike to life, drowning out any chance of talking.
Through the tangle of freeways and overpasses, his words haunted me. The clue we chased was so thin. If there was no one there, Beth would have to spend the rest of her life running from the unicorns.
But if they were there, I’d have the sword, my aunt, and hopefully Steve. Could we use the sword on Kurt? Woul
d it work on him?
The sun set over the bay as the Pacific Ocean came into view. Light reflected off the world, and even my bones ached. The road twisted closer and closer to the water until the Bay Bridge rose in front of us.
Fog puffed up in great rolls of doughy clouds, swallowing one end of the road as it stretched across the waters. The telltale towers of the Golden Gate Bridge poked through the fog, spanning the gap in between the distant mountains.
We rode over the water and took the first exit. Buildings rose to our left, and the piers, more like warehouses, stood on our right. Gaps between the buildings gave us a view of the water, reflecting the light from the city. The façades were painted white with bronze numbers over the arch. Some of the bay doors had been replaced with solid walls and man-sized doors. Others were blocked by cyclone fencing.
Pier 22 1/2 squatted between two white façades, an afterthought compared to the other piers. A two-story building stood on top of a badly paved parking lot. Red paint around the trim of the white building flaked in places. A red shield painted on the front doors said SFFD.
Oh great, not only would we be trespassing, but it’d be trespassing through a fire station.
Around the building, cyclone fencing kept the unkempt lawn from invading the parking lot. I scanned the parked cars behind the fence, but no Martin’s Moving vans, so hopefully they hadn’t beaten us. They could have beaten us easily–we’d spent a whole day moving the gryphons.
We parked the bikes behind a sign and hopped the fence into the parking lot. Beth stepped up to the door and crushed the handle. “It’s always polite to come in the front door.”
“I wasn’t really thinking about our manners,” I said.
“Now what?” Felix asked.
There wasn’t a ‘Kidnapping Trolls’ sign with an arrow. Fire equipment and boxes filled one side of the building, and the faint smell of fish clung to the cement floor.
Two moving vans were parked farther down, but these trucks didn’t have any scorch marks up the sides. So either they got the truck repaired in a day–unlikely considering the fire–or these were different trucks.
I nodded toward the truck, and Beth walked up and crushed the lock in her hand.
“Damn, Duke, you’re good at that,” Felix said.
Beth gave him a half smile. “Yeah, muscle and blood, we trolls have all kinds of uses.”
“You’re more valuable than your muscle and blood,” I said.
Beth cocked her eyebrow.
“What, I’m not saying it isn’t useful, I’m just saying it’s not all that’s useful.”
Beth opened the door. Inside, rows of bunks lined the walls, but no Steve and Aunt Aggy. “Crap.”
“I don’t understand,” Felix said.
I looked from Beth to Felix. “It means they’re kidnapping lots of people.”
He scanned the rest of the warehouse. “Then where are they?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. This is where my dad said to meet him, but I’m not sure he was actually talking to me, or just lying to someone else.”
Felix grew still except for his fists, which clenched and shook. “You mean you don’t actually know if anyone is going to show up?”
“It’s the best I had to go on. My dad called my aunt, and I picked up the phone. My dad was on the other end, but Stein came in. My Dad said to meet at Pier 22 1/2 and, well, here it is.” I pointed at the bunks.
He shook his head. “Where are they?”
Beth put a hand on each of our shoulders. “I know I’m not usually known for my great plans and all, but why don’t we search the place? If that doesn’t lead to anything we can find some good hiding spots and wait for midnight.”
“Why is it always midnight?” Felix asked.
I yawned. “To keep the children from finding out?”
“It’s pretty cliché if you ask me,” Beth said.
We searched the place, but other than hoses and boxes, there wasn’t anything useful. We made a sort of nest out of the hoses.
I pointed at Beth and Felix. “You guys should sleep. You’ve been driving all day, and it’s hours until anything is supposed to happen.”
Felix scowled, but he yawned. Grudgingly he made himself comfortable.
Beth laid down and started snoring in seconds.
The waiting stretched on with only the sound of water lapping against the pier to keep me company. I jumped when a rat scuttled through the boxes. My pulse hammered in my throat, and I tried to take deep breaths to calm the burning in my lungs.
Beth and Felix slept like the dead. As I watched them breathing, Joe’s words filled me with dread. Dragons don’t come back. They didn’t know how dangerous this could be. My father wrote a letter explaining how to help my aunt kill him–giving me permission to help her.
My stomach twisted at the thought. There had to be another way, a way to free him.
I could protect my friends though. If there was an opportunity to keep them from getting hurt, I had to take it. This wasn’t Beth’s fight, and Felix–well, if I found my family, they could help me rescue his.
I jumped when the doors rumbled open, nearly falling.
A battered moving truck drove in. Black char marked the cab over the windows, and it smelled like burnt plastic. Three trolls sat abreast in the cab. John sat in the middle, stiff and keeping his arms to his side. The trolls piled out and immediately opened the back of the van.
A flash of silver from by the door distracted me, but John and the other trolls pulled out their first victim. They laid people out on stretchers, and John rearranged an arm or a leg. My heart leapt when they pulled out my aunt. She still wore her clothes from days before, and her limp body hung lifeless. They wouldn’t have brought her all this way if she was already dead, would they?
Outside, boards creaked, and one of the bay doors opened to the dock. Outside, boats strained against their moorings. Two boats were covered in reflective paint and bright red markings like fire trucks. Ropes squealed and wood moaned as the boats rolled with the water beneath.
A man in a business suit stood next to the door. He was Japanese with long black hair hanging from a ponytail at the nape of his neck. I recognized the hair; it was mine.
My father.
David Takata stood less than thirty yards away. For a second, he looked straight at me. He searched my hiding place, and the scent of piñon wafted through the warehouse.
I held my breath, and everything except my father fell away. His nose had the same curve as Aggy’s. His ears were the same shape as mine. Then he turned, and I inhaled. My heart pounded in my chest.
A hand slipped over my mouth, and someone pinned my arms in place. “My apologies, Miss Takata, I had assumed you were with the trolls,” Dr. Targyne whispered. Something sharp pinched my arm, and the world quickly swam out of focus. “But I can’t risk them catching you, too.”
Of course, the silver at the door had been a unicorn slipping in.
Oh good, a unicorn. Now I can get out the sword.
Everything went black.
The Day Of
murky nothingness swam through my thoughts. I wanted the oblivion, but something urgent rattled in my mind. If I didn’t get up in time for the first bell, Mom would kill me. A dark room flickered into view, and the world shifted, disorienting me.
Then it came back to me in a rush.
That son of a monohorn!
I was buried in thin layer of hoses. Someone had hidden me.
Dr. Targyne?
He’d said he couldn’t risk me being caught, but what was he doing here? And what happened to his gun-toting goons?
I pushed up out of the loose debris and scanned the room. No one else was here. My aunt, my father, Steve, all of them gone while I’d been knocked out by Dr. Targyne’s drug. That slimeball!
And why was keeping me on the sidelines so important?
Leaping down off the pile of hoses, I fell. My face smashed into the floor. Pain shot up through my ch
in, and I rolled over with a groan. What was I thinking, jumping after a sedative? Maybe that stuff took out a bunch of brain cells, too. My limbs were slow and heavy.
The smell of my father lingered. I pushed through the door on the dockside, following the scent. It was strong enough to follow across the water.
The SFFD lettering left nothing in question, those were fireboats. If I stole one, someone might get hurt if there was a water fire.
And my burning lungs suggested fire would fly before the end of the night.
If I wanted to follow, I’d have to go as a dragon.
I dropped my backpack and threw my jacket to the pier. If I died, I wanted the cops asking very uncomfortable questions about my whereabouts.
Taking a deep breath, I focused on how it felt to be a dragon. Impervious to cold. Thick air, like swimming. Even my vision was sharper as a dragon. Most of all, as a dragon, I wanted to bask in the sun all day. I poured my consciousness into that feeling of baking in my blue, scaled hide. My skin shivered with the change, and the world felt fifteen degrees warmer. Air poured into my huge lungs, and the world of smell opened up to me as if I’d never had the pleasure of tasting the air. My view shifted several feet up, and my claws sank into the wooden decks.
It worked!
I chuckled and smoke wafted from my nostrils.
I had whiskers like an Asian style dragon. My head was easily taller than the tops of the doors, and I fell onto my front legs. My long, slender body tapered off to a very long tail. My wings were more what would be called a European dragon’s wings, jutting out from just behind my arms–now front legs. A ridge of scales traced down my back, and I flicked my tail to watch the scales move.
With my giant claws, I peeled open my backpack to look for the Kornus Blade. I grabbed the lump of plastic in my claws and slipped into the water. It parted around me like a silk dress, and I slithered through the ocean.
With a roll of my tail, I zipped through the water after the boat carrying my father. The smell of dragon wafted across the water, easier to follow than a trail on the ground. Steam rose from my nostrils, but fog choked the bay, whisping off the water.