by Finley Aaron
“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.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
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 bes
t 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.”
“More than that,” Dad takes Mom’s side, of course, “Eudora implied Hans would be attracted to you. You’re not going. You’re not going anywhere near there. Ion and I will go alone, with Eudora as a guide.”
“But what about me?” Felix and Rilla ask almost in unison.
Dad stands and holds his hands up, shushing everyone. “This is essentially a reconnaissance mission. We’re learning what we’re up against. There’s no saying we’ll actually act on what we find. But since we don’t know how dangerous it might be, I’m not taking any unnecessary risks. Ion and I will go with Eudora. That’s my final word. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’m exhausted from our journey, and I need my rest.”
Dad’s halfway down the hallway when Rilla stands.
“I need my rest, too, regardless of what’s to happen.” There’s a glint in her eye that says she’s not necessarily staying home, as instructed.
Felix offers to help Mom clean up the dishes. I rise to help, as well, but Ion takes my hand.
“He’s right, Zilpha. I don’t want you anywhere near Hans Wexler’s place. It’s far too dangerous.”
I pinch my eyes shut. Much as I want to argue with Ion, to insist I must go, not only because it is my duty to finish what I started, but to keep Ion and my family safe (I could never forgive myself if anyone got hurt). And there’s still the thing Eudora said about me, her prediction that I’m the one most likely to succeed. I should go.
But no matter how strongly I feel it, that doesn’t erase the reality of my circumstances. “I can’t fly. I’ve been trying to change into a dragon for days now, and I’ve yet to change anything at all. I can’t even sneak away and follow after you, no matter how much I want to.”
“Good.” Ion doesn’t exactly smile, but the agony on his face eases. “You’ll be safe.”
I squeeze his hand, then rise to help my mom and Felix clear the table.
Safe.
Right.
Except that I started this mess. It’s not fair that someone else should finish it.
And what was it Eudora said?
Zilpha’s the only one here who has any chance of getting past Hans.
Yeah, that. But more than that.
Life for life, Ion. You promised me Zilpha.
Ion may have been lying when he made the promise, but that won’t make any difference to Eudora. And sure, my family members brought Eudora here in order to get information out of her, but that’s not why she came.
She came to claim me…so I can get past Hans and destroy the yagi operation?
Maybe I sh
ould be terrified. Okay, so I sort of am terrified, but I’m also oddly relieved.
I need to finish what I started.
And Eudora’s going to help me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ion helps me clear the table. While Mom and Felix finish with the dishes, I volunteer to go outside and make sure our cooking fires are fully extinguished. Ion follows me.
I shoot a look at my mom to see if she’s going to do anything to prevent the two of us from spending time alone together. She sends me a little shrug that seems to say I don’t know. Cryptic as that might seem, I think I understand the vibe she’s sending.
She doesn’t know if Ion can be trusted. She doesn’t know where a lot of things stand right now. We just had Eudora as a dinner guest, and might be plotting together with her to defeat a common enemy, and it all seems so strange. The world as we know it feels a bit upended.
So why should she try to stop me and Ion from spending time together? Will it do any harm? She doesn’t know. She’s past guessing.
In a way, so am I.
Though it feels much later, it’s still only early afternoon. The sun is bright. I prod the coals with a long stick, checking for any glowing embers. It’s much easier to spot them when it’s dark out. Then they glow like dragon eyes.
Silence weighs heavily between me and Ion. There is so much to say, so many feelings inside me that have been turned over and exposed, just as I am turning over and exposing the coals.
“You’re not a failure,” I inform Ion. “You didn’t flee that night. Eudora took you.” Maybe I’m stating the obvious, but I want him to know I understand the implications of what we heard.
Ion freezes. Realization flashes behind his eyes. The ashamed child of 1918 looks hopeful for a second, as though perhaps his guilt has been assuaged and he no longer has to hide. But then he blinks and his expression clouds, snatching back his tattered veil. “The Romanovs still died.”
“But you’re not a coward. You’ve got it stuck in your head that you’re a bad man who does bad things, like fate has bound you to evil and if I get too close to you, it might stick to me, too. But you know what? You haven’t made me worse. You’ve made me better.”