Blazing the Trail: The Dragon Diaries

by Deborah Cooke

  But there was another choice.

  I slanted a look across the parking garage to the car carefully covered with a tarp and protected for all time. Or at least until its new buyer came to collect it in a week or two. My heart skipped a beat at the boldness of my idea.

  The Lamborghini was here.

  Its gas tank was full.

  And I knew where the keys were.

  It seemed that this was the night that some dreams could come true.

  “BE RIGHT BACK,” I SAID to Derek, and raced upstairs. I grabbed the Lamborghini’s keys and was back in the garage in record time, moving practically at the speed of light.

  Derek was gone.

  My messenger was emitting one of those notes, the sound echoing around the parking garage in a decidedly eerie fashion.

  I panicked for a second, certain the ShadowEaters had gotten him.

  But no. Derek was in wolf form. I exhaled in relief when I saw him. His paws were braced against the pavement in the space that was usually occupied by my dad’s new sedan. My messenger was on the ground beside him, holding that note.

  When he saw me, he tipped back his head and loosed the howl I’d heard the wolf shifters make when we triumphed over the Mages in the fall. It was a sound that made me shiver.

  And it perfectly matched the note emanating from my messenger.

  The Wakiya elder lounged against the fender of my car, nodding approval. “That’s two,” he said, and I laughed.

  “Help me get the tarp off,” I said to Derek, snatching up my messenger on the way past him. I saw the blue shimmer of his shifting shape; then he was beside me again. In no time at all, we had the car unwrapped, and we both stopped to stare.

  The car was perfect. Utterly black, polished to the gleam of a dark mirror, sleek and powerful, and apparently untouched by human hands.

  My heart did a trio of backflips.

  Was I out of my mind?

  “Pretty much,” Sigmund said, and I could have smacked him.

  If I’d been able to see him.

  I was not happy that he was adding the disembodied voice to his repertoire of dead-guy tricks. He would choose this moment to change his rules.

  “You know, in some cultures, it’s believed that people who see the dead do so because they’ll soon be dead themselves,” Sigmund said conversationally.

  I was sure he was referring to my dad’s reaction to me driving the Lamborghini.

  “Thank you very much for that,” I said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Keep what in mind?” Derek asked.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I forced a smile, feigning confidence, and hit the button to unlock the doors. The car beeped and the lights flashed. I heard the locks disengage.

  “You know how to drive this thing?” Derek asked, his uncertainty clear.

  “I guess I’ll learn,” I said, and his eyes widened. I opened the driver’s-side door. I was more terrified of damaging this car than I’d been of anything ever in my life.

  Which was saying something, given that I lived with dragons and fought ShadowEaters on a regular basis.

  On the other hand, I was thrilled.

  And I told myself I didn’t have a choice.

  There were, of course, really only two seats in the car, the backseat pretty much big enough for just an umbrella or a purse. I realized suddenly that I was the reason my dad had had to set aside his precious automobile.

  No room for a baby seat.

  I glanced at the elder, who moved his arms to pantomime flying. I gave him a thumbs-up. Derek looked between me and the place where the dead elder stood, with an expression that told me he couldn’t see our companion.

  I got in, was swallowed by the leather seat, and was amazed that my dad had given this up for me. It was completely deluxe, and so antique that it could have been from another planet. Slick, though.

  I looked at the dashboard in awe and uncertainty.

  Derek visibly swallowed and I wondered what he saw two minutes in his future. “You think your dad will be cool with this?”

  I didn’t need dragon powers of perception to hear his worry.

  “No,” I admitted, to Derek’s obvious alarm. “He’ll be furious enough to spark an inferno.” I smiled. “Unless we save the world tonight.”

  “No pressure,” Derek said, gritting his teeth and fastening his seat belt.

  I felt for the seat adjustment. I’m tall, but my dad is taller, and I couldn’t quite reach the clutch.

  “There,” Sigmund said, and I felt his fingers on mine, even though I couldn’t see him. The rearview mirror moved, seemingly of its own accord, and I was relieved that Derek didn’t seem to notice. Ditto on the side mirrors.

  Sigmund set me right up. “Act like you know what you’re doing,” he advised. “It’ll inspire confidence, even when you’re putting it on.”

  I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I said a quick prayer, then looked at the gearbox, mystified. I knew how to drive a standard, but the gearbox was different.

  “You’ll find reverse over here,” Sigmund whispered in my ear, and I was really glad to be hearing dead people. He walked me through the gears in order, up to fifth and back to first. An older brother teaching me to drive. That thought made me smile. “Easy on the clutch, sis. It’s pretty punchy. This baby is made to race, after all.”

  “Right,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “And if you fry the clutch, neither one of us will be safe from Erik.”

  “I could blame you,” I teased, seeing how Derek was staring at me.

  Sigmund laughed. “And I’d blame you. Who would he believe? You’re the only one who has a physical form.”

  He had a point. I put it in reverse, feeling where the clutch engaged, and backed out of the spot with care. Derek was looking at me as if I’d lost my mind, but was probably thinking it would be smarter not to distract me.

  “So, what do you see two minutes in our future?” I asked.

  “Nothing good.”

  “Skeptic.” I grinned at Derek, probably looking like a maniac, and touched the gas.

  The car surged forward like a cheetah let loose.

  In precisely one half second, I knew that this car was made for me. I knew that driving it would be more fun than anything I’d ever done.

  Me in this car was kismet.

  Just like I’d always believed.

  THE TIRES SQUEALED AS I rounded the corner to the exit. Derek was pale but I didn’t care. Our spaces were at the back of the garage, so I had another corner to go. I took the second corner in a harder turn, thrilled by how responsive the car was.

  Derek audibly gulped.

  “Time is of the essence,” I informed him.

  I heard Jared in my thoughts. A dragon girl should be bold. I blinked back my tears and focused. I’d have plenty of time to mourn later.

  First I had to make his sacrifice count.

  The parking garage had a sensor that lifted the door. As soon as we passed it and the door mechanism clicked, I knew we were going too fast. The garage door was old and clunky and took forever to ascend.

  I hit the brake. The Lamborghini squealed to a halt, skidding a bit on the pavement and sliding toward the opening door.

  “Shit!” Derek shouted.

  The Great Wyvern was with me. The door was no more than two inches over the hood of the car as we slid beneath it and came to a stop. The door continued to crank upward. I was so relieved that I took my foot off the clutch.

  And stalled it. The cheetah lurched forward another foot and came to a choking halt.

  I knew the garage door would reach the top, remain open for a timed interval, then close again. Was there a sensor to detect a car or anything beneath it? I wasn’t sure and it seemed a bad time to find out. I turned the key hard in the ignition and the engine ground in complaint.

  Derek swore some more and peered through the windshield at the garage door.

  It hit the top and stopped.


  “Easy, easy,” Sigmund said. “Don’t flood it.”

  Right. Deep breath. Stay calm. I put on the emergency brake, put the car in neutral. I could feel the seconds ticking down and the sweat rolling down my back. I squared my shoulders, ignored Derek’s agitation, depressed the clutch, and tried again.

  The engine started, settling into a throaty purr. I would have hit the gas, but Sigmund shouted, “The brake!” He sounded more agitated than I’d ever heard him.

  Too late. I stalled it again.

  The door started to descend.

  Sigmund swore with enthusiasm.

  Derek watched the door descend and I could hear his breath quickening. “Hurry up, Zoë.”

  “You’d think it was your car,” I muttered. I went through my routine again—neutral, clutch, ignition—and the car choked for only a moment before the engine started again.

  “Maybe it likes abuse,” Sigmund muttered, but I ignored him.

  I had things to do. I could see the shadow of the garage door coming closer and knew there would be no other opportunity. I disengaged the emergency brake, put it back in first, and touched the gas.

  “Move it already,” Derek shouted, and I floored it.

  The car shot out into the night. It is possible that the garage door scraped the roof of the car. Or touched it. I’m not sure. But I saw it ascending again in the rearview mirror. Then I saw a vivid flash of yellow light in that mirror, and a massive black bird swooped out beneath the descending door. He disappeared from my view and I knew he’d be flying above us.

  I had one heartbeat to think myself a success before Derek screamed a warning.

  The car bounded onto the road—I swear it took flight at the end of the driveway. It was a fast beast, faster than I expected.

  Too late, I saw I’d neglected to check the road for oncoming traffic.

  “Left!” Sigmund roared.

  “Right!” Derek cried.

  I swerved hard to the left to avoid a van that had been moving along the street, minding its own business, until I’d decided to occupy the same physical space. The other driver honked as I skidded. I realized there was a bit of ice on the road, too. There was an oncoming car and I was in the wrong lane. Sigmund reached over and jerked the wheel hard to the right.

  The Lamborghini fishtailed with glorious drama. Derek swore again and tightened his seat belt.

  “Steer into the skid,” Sigmund shouted.

  “I’m trying!” I shouted back.

  “Try harder,” Derek complained.

  After about ten thousand years of sliding around, the tires found their grip. We were at the end of the block, the light was green, and I saw no reason to take it easy. Time was wasting. I rocked it into second and left the honking van in my dust.

  “Help me with your foresight,” I said to Sigmund.

  “Do it yourself, sis,” Sigmund murmured.

  I might have argued with him, but something opened in my mind. I saw a network of possibilities, an array of scenes emanating from this point in time like a glorious web. It was the future, in all its myriad possibilities. I put the engine in third, accelerated through an intersection before the light changed to red. The display in my mind’s eye changed, some possibilities falling by the wayside, others becoming visible.

  It made me think of driving down a highway and seeing all the choices available from the next exit. If I passed on that exit, the options at the next one became visible. If I took the exit, there were more options created as a result of my choice.

  Exactly as Jared had said.

  The future was mutable.

  And we made it ourselves.

  But this vision in my mind’s eye made driving the car like a game or a simulator. I could see all that was coming, and the result of all possible choices—at least in the short term. That fed my confidence in a very big way. It wasn’t two minutes’ warning. It was much, much more than that.

  “Don’t dig your nails into the upholstery,” I told Derek. “It’ll tick my dad off.”

  “There’s a truck coming into the next intersection from the right,” he said grimly.

  “I know.”

  “He’s not going to stop and we’re going to take it head-on!”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

  I swerved hard to the left while entering that intersection. The light was green and there was no other traffic. The truck honked, leaping into the intersection from the right. Derek swore. I zoomed right around that truck, rocketing into the next block, leaving us unscathed.

  I swear there were flames coming out the back of this car. We were one, dragon girl and Italian sports car, its performance an extension of my own abilities.

  I got us to the school so fast that it was almost disappointing.

  I DELIBERATELY SKIDDED THE CAR to a halt at the front door of the school, almost but not quite bumping the tires against the curb. I turned off the ignition with some regret and we turned to look at the school.

  It was glittering with spell light like a Christmas tree.

  Worse than that, it was surrounded by ShadowEaters. They milled outside the school. They mingled with the kids who were attending the dance. They were inside, too, and I suspected that any kid foolish enough to wander away from the larger group might not come back. They’d taken out apprentice Mages individually already, after all. Now the ShadowEaters pushed against the kids, exuding menace, vibrating with frenzy.

  I sensed they were waiting for something.

  Enough power for a full and final assault.

  I had a feeling that I knew where they’d get that surge of power.

  “Can you see them?” I asked Derek.

  He shook his head, looking—it must be said—a bit green around the gills. “Feels really bad, but I can’t see anything.”

  “There are ShadowEaters everywhere. I’ll bet the NightBlade is here, too.”

  “Big finish,” he said, nodding. “What do we do?”

  “Let’s act as if everything’s normal and see what we can learn.”

  He exhaled, clearly not liking my plan but not having another, and got out of the car. There were a group of cool kids approaching, drawn to the car and obviously wondering who was driving it.

  Were they ever going to be surprised.

  Derek bent and kissed the ground, deliberately giving me a hard time. The kids laughed, razzing him about his ride. I saw that there were ShadowEaters following the group of kids, their eyes shining with malice. They nibbled at them, pinched them, considered them as if they were choosing from a buffet. Even though the kids couldn’t see them, they eased away from the ShadowEaters instinctively, sensing something they didn’t like.

  I got out of the car and they were suitably astounded. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said to Derek, blushing furiously as they encircled the car, talking about Zitty Zoë’s deep secrets.

  Derek gave me a look. “Next time, I’ll walk.”

  The kids laughed aloud and I pretended to be insulted. I locked and armed the car, then came around it to Derek’s side.

  That was when I heard the music drifting out of the doors of the school. I had seen the golden spell light churning around the building from the moment we arrived, but now I saw a tendril of blue and green spell light winding through it. The golden spells surrounded the blue-green thread, containing it and feeding off of it but still letting it grow.

  Because it was Jared singing “Snow Goddess.”

  I stared in shock, my heart thudding. Was it a recording?

  I watched the blue and purple spell light swirl upward, knowing I’d never seen it emanate from any recording of Jared’s before.

  “He’s alive,” I whispered, my heart thudding.

  Derek swore under his breath. “They saved him for this.”

  I nodded, my throat tight. “They baited the trap.”

  “That means you can win, Zoë.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that. I thought it just mean
t they needed me for their ritual.

  Or my shadow.

  A taxi pulled in beside us and squealed to a halt; then Jessica, Meagan, Liam, and Garrett spilled out. Jessica shuddered as she looked at the school, and Meagan gasped when she obviously recognized the tune.

  I whispered to Meagan about Derek’s howl when I gave her a hug and felt her nod. Then she got her Einstein look and I knew she had the solution.

  She immediately typed a message, and my eyes widened when I read it.

  “The keening note the Bastians use to summon the ancestors must be the soprano.”

  I looked at her and she nodded furiously. It made sense. We last four kinds held the secret to the four notes that could destroy the NightBlade. We wildcards hung out with spellsingers, which meant we could figure it out.

  That explained why they wanted to finish us off so badly.

  And the note had to be distinctive to our respective kinds. That left the Pyr with the bass note. I played the note and couldn’t think of anything we did that echoed that sound.

  “What are you doing?” Liam asked in old-speak.

  “Solving the riddle that can destroy the NightBlade,” I said, and told them what I was looking for. Liam looked thoughtful, but Garrett frowned.

  “If Jared’s alive, we have to save him,” Garrett added, glancing toward the stage. “No time to mess around with games and riddles.”

  Meagan’s eyes lit as she looked between us. “Is that old-speak?” she asked. She grinned and tapped madly on her messenger, which then emitted a tone so low that everyone in the room looked skyward.

  Thinking it was thunder.

  “One octave lower!” Meagan said, triumphant. “That’s it!”

  “But how do we know when to make the sound?” Derek asked, turning toward the stage.

  “I’ll give Meagan a signal,” I said. “Watch her for your cue.”

  We nodded at one another, exchanged looks, and I probably wasn’t the only one who took a breath. I offered Derek my hand; then we marched toward the doors together.

  There was no way that I could turn away from Jared, even if he was spellbound.

  No matter what the consequences might be.

  Chapter 13