Caden's Comet

by Annabelle Jay

  Wait, my children, Shayla’s voice echoed. Wait, and prepare.

  Then the light went out, and with it went the voice. Without being told, I knew that Shayla was in there somewhere, waiting for the time when she would emerge again; I could feel her presence like one feels a storm before there are any signs.

  “Come, King Grian,” said Chima, and any animosity she had felt toward me and my “chosen one” status had disappeared with the dance. “We must find Merlin so that he can take you home.”

  By the time I reached the small cottage at the edge of the Mansion, Merlin was waiting for me. He rocked in his porch chair, creaking back and forth, as I approached on the path.

  “King Grian, you have quite a lot of explaining to do,” he called out.

  “I know, old friend.”

  From the way he looked past me, I knew that in the time since our last meeting, Merlin had gone blind. He still had a walking stick next to him, and I wondered if this also served as a guide now in his solitary life. His hands were like the hands of a dead man, thin and spotted and yellow.

  I took the chair next to him, an ancient wicker thing that looked about as old as Merlin, and started to speak.

  “Wait!” Merlin held up a finger. “I believe this calls for a cup of tea.”

  “I agree. But let me make it. It’s the least I can do.”

  I walked inside to the kitchen, where nothing had changed since my last visit. In the cabinet were the same tea bags, and on the stove the same metal teapot Merlin had used when Blair and I sat at that very kitchen table. Once the pot was full of tap water, I moved it to the back burner and watched, mesmerized, as steam began to pour from the small hole at the spout.

  Because I was watching the teapot so intently, I saw a reflection on the side of the metal that most others would have missed—especially Merlin, who no longer saw anything at all, even a relation of his. So startled was I that I let the teapot cry for several minutes, until Merlin called out grumpily that he might have been blind but he could still hear a screaming whistle from the porch.

  Staring right at me, burning like hellfire, were two red eyes.

  Exclusive Excerpt

  Luminosity

  The Sun Dragon: Book Five

  By Annabelle Jay

  As the epic saga of the Sun Dragon Series draws to a close, transgender teenager Luke must face her destiny to decide the fate of her world. Not only is Luke a girl born into the wrong body, she is the universe’s last Artist: a person with the ability to draw things into existence. When she comes face to face with an incubus who might be her father, she learns it falls to her to prevent the incubi from destroying the world—along with allies from the wizard’s Council and the dragon clan leaders. If that isn’t enough, she needs to find a way out of a relationship with her girlfriend that she never intended, go after the Igreefee royal she really wants to be with, and decide if the time is right to transition physically into the girl she’s always been inside.

  The journey that began with Allanah’s first Sun Dragon is coming to its thrilling conclusion. The dragons, wizards, sorceresses, and birds you’ve come to know and love will reunite for their biggest battle yet—one that will decide their destiny at last.

  Coming Soon to

  www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Chapter One

  THE STARS danced above me, spinning like the Earth was a globe turned by a huge hand. Constellations I knew like the freckles on my skin flew by—Virgo, Ursa Minor, Perseus—and I named them, their ancient titles just a whisper in a pitch-black universe.

  “Luke? Earth to Luke?”

  The sound of Mr. Burnett’s voice startled me out of my mumbling. Though the astronomy lab was dark, I could feel nineteen pairs of eyes turn toward me regardless. I must have been whispering loudly for my teacher, who was somewhere in the back row of empty chairs, to hear me.

  “Yes, Mr. Burnett?”

  “The question was this constellation.” Mr. Burnett used his laser pointer to circle a cluster of stars. “Name it, please.”

  A sigh of relief escaped my lips. The constellation in question was Cygnus, one of the easiest northern constellations to spot.

  “It’s Cygnus—the swan. Its most recognizable feature is the cross that comprises its body, but don’t confuse it with the Southern Cross, which would appear much smaller.”

  “Just the name is fine, Luke,” Mr. Burnett said, and the class laughed. “But you are correct. Now, Egret, can you tell me the name of this one over here?”

  I couldn’t see Egret, but I knew she was rolling her eyes. Her feet were probably propped up on the seat in front of her, whether another student’s head lay there or not, tapping time to whatever rock song she played on her cell phone low enough that Mr. Burnett wouldn’t hear her.

  “Uh, let me think,” Egret said, her voice already dripping with sarcasm. “Is it ‘lame constellation nobody cares about’?”

  Awkward titters followed and then silence.

  “No, Egret, it’s not. Perhaps you’ll see me after class for some extra homework that might help you learn these names?”

  Mr. Burnett continued with the lesson, but I tuned him out. I had just moved to Eagle High, Maine’s largest public high school, to complete my senior year, and needless to say, making friends had proved impossible. Social circles were deeply entrenched, and with college looming on the horizon, no one cared to enlarge them. Egret had the locker next to mine, so she occasionally spoke to me out of necessity—mostly things like “move” and “your sweatshirt’s on the floor”—but besides her, I knew no one in class.

  “That’s it for today, folks. Remember, test tomorrow on these names, and all you’re getting is a blank star chart, so practice, practice, practice. Who knows—one of you might end up flying a spaceship to Draman one day.”

  As I packed up my book bag, Mr. Burnett’s words echoed in my ear. Draman: a legend for astronomy geeks like Mr. Burnett or my mom, a real astronomer for NASA, to yearn for every time they looked through the telescope. When I’d registered for this class, I’d had Draman on my mind. Nothing about the planet’s existence had been proven, but rumors were all over the Internet.

  The class filed through the rows of reclining chairs to the hallway, where chaos reigned in the three minutes between first and second period. Couples made out without regard for common decency; friends gossiped about who was applying for which colleges. The whole hallway smelled like burnt toast, which I assumed came from the Bunsen burners used in the chemistry labs.

  Needing my copy of 1984, a book that was so outdated that it mentioned passing notes instead of texts, I stopped by my locker on the second floor of the science building, though I knew the longer walk would probably make me late for class. After pressing my thumb on the screen for identification, I searched inside my locker, where I’d hung a copy of the star map, a tabloid clipping about a dragon sighting, two large green feathers I’d found in the woods, and a photo of something that looked like a creature made of bones that I’d seen flying in front of the moon years ago. Plus another photo, this one of my best friend from California, Lacey, wearing a dozen flowers in her curly blonde hair.

  “Crap,” I muttered when I realized I’d left my copy of the book at home. Miss Taylor hated when we had to share books, especially on quiz days when she assumed we were passing answers back and forth, and I didn’t feel like being yelled at by two teachers in one day. I pulled out the contents of my locker and checked the back just in case, but the book was nowhere to be found.

  “Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say anything that wasn’t about a star.”

  Startled, I dropped my pile of binders on the floor. Egret bent to help me pick them up, and she came just close enough that I could smell e-cigarette vapor on her cracked leather jacket. She wore that jacket and her black combat boots every single day, changing only the color of her flannel button-down, ripped jeans, and jewelry. In what I’d heard was a form of environmental protest, Egre
t dyed her long hair dark green with light green streaks. She was the leader of the school’s punk crowd, and this was one of the first times she wasn’t surrounded by her adoring fans.

  “Thanks.” I shoved my binders back into my locker. “Sorry. I just realized I forgot my book at home, and Miss Taylor’s going to be pissed.”

  “Here, take mine.” She pulled her copy of 1984 out of her cross-body bag, which was covered in band pins, and handed it to me. The book was in pieces, and only a rubber band held the spine and two separated halves together. Why, I asked myself for the millionth time, does Miss Taylor insist that we buy actual books when she knows everything has been digital for decades?

  “Really? You don’t mind?”

  “Why would I? Just meet me here at the end of the day and give it back. I only have a few print books, so each one is precious.”

  Was she joking? I couldn’t tell, so I just took the book and put it in my own standard-issue backpack. Next to Egret, I was suddenly aware of how nerdy I looked in my khaki pants and navy polo, though I supposed it was better than the imitation astronaut uniforms a lot of science geeks were wearing. My last school had been a prep school, where polos were the norm and caring about class was encouraged, and I still hadn’t adjusted to public school life.

  “By the way, what’s up with your locker?” she asked as she raised her eyebrows toward the star chart.

  “Oh… that… I’m mildly obsessed with space.”

  “Mildly?”

  “My mom works for NASA, so she and I do a lot of astronomical stuff together. Star gazing, meteor shower nights, that kind of stuff.”

  “Cool.”

  I couldn’t tell if she really meant that or not, but I didn’t care. Egret was talking to me for the first time ever, and I just wanted the conversation to continue.

  “Hey listen,” I said as she closed her locker, “maybe when we meet up later I could help you study for the astronomy test tomorrow? It’s the least I can do in return for lending me your book.”

  “Study?” She looked at me like I’d suggested murder. “I never study.”

  “Oh. Well, let me buy you a coffee, then?”

  “Fine. But I’m driving.” This seemed like a challenge, but for what, I did not know.

  “Great. Coffee it is.”

  Egret took a few steps down the hall, then called over her shoulder, “Oh, and Luke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not into dudes. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  She turned the corner right as the bell rang. I took off in the other direction at top speed, praying that for once Miss Taylor would see it in her heart not to publicly embarrass me.

  All day I could barely concentrate. I took the quiz on 1984 and wrote an incomprehensible essay on the dangers of totalitarianism, then sailed through calculus with no memory of the review of derivatives of trigonometric functions. Study hall was forty-five minutes of staring out the window at the dreary fall day, and health class was another forty-five minutes of the same.

  I’m not into dudes was all that went through my brain.

  I’d suspected as much since the first day of school, when one of Egret’s followers, a girl named Izzie, had confronted Egret at our lockers. “How could you just drop me like that?” Izzie had demanded over and over through tears, while Egret inspected her black nail polish with an expression somewhere between boredom and disdain. Poor Izzie still trailed Egret through the halls, but now she did it from a safe distance and under the guise of mutual friends. I’d also seen Egret with a few other girls throughout my first month at Eagle High, but none of them stayed around for long.

  Finally, eighth period released me, and I rushed back to my locker to look for Egret. I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind; I couldn’t afford a car, so if I missed the bus, my only other option would be walking the five miles to our apartment. Awkwardly I smoothed my curly blond hair down around my ears and straightened my already perfectly straight collar.

  After what seemed like ages, Egret rounded the corner.

  “I thought you’d changed your mind,” I said as I handed over 1984, then instantly regretted the words because they made me sound desperate.

  “Nope. I’ve got to be home for dinner at seven, but until then, I’m yours.”

  All of her books, along with her backpack, went into her locker—she hadn’t exaggerated about her policy on studying—and then she dangled her keys in front of my face.

  “Come on, space boy. Let’s get caffeinated.”

  Chapter Two

  EGRET’S CAR turned out to be a huge van painted black inside and out. Battery-powered string lights lit the dark back section, which was otherwise empty besides a few wool blankets laid down like carpet.

  “I play the drums in a band,” she explained as I climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Thus the space requirements. Plus, it comes in handy for other things too.”

  Several seconds of eyebrow raising went by before I caught her meaning. I couldn’t help it; I blushed.

  “So where to, space boy?”

  I thought fast. I didn’t want to chance running into other kids from high school, especially any of Egret’s special friends.

  “How about Starbucks takeout and then the park? That’s my favorite place around here so far, because it’s so quiet and no one ever bothers you. Do you know that our school, Eagle High, is named after Eagle Park? Back when we humans were ripping down all the trees we could get our hands on, people thought Eagle Park might be next, so they named the school after—”

  “Are you always this nerdy?” Egret asked as she pressed her finger against the key panel and brought the van to life. “Because I thought I was getting a drink with my locker mate, not an encyclopedia.”

  “Sorry, I just—”

  “I’m teasing, space boy; it’s fine. You’re just way smarter than everyone else I know.”

  Eagle Park was right next to Starbucks, so once we ordered our extra-large bold coffees from the automated system and paid the machine, we parked in the Eagle Park lot and found a bench near the entrance to drink them.

  “The trees here are so beautiful,” I said as I sipped from the paper cup. “Most of the parks in California were destroyed by city expansion a long time ago, and those that weren’t have dried up from desertification.”

  “They just look like boring old pines and elms to me,” Egret said, “but then again, I’ve lived here my whole life. Even our 130-foot trees, the largest ones in New England, aren’t going to impress me.”

  “Now who sounds like a textbook?” I teased.

  “Touché. My parents work in landscaping, so trees have been a huge part of my life, like it or not. My parents are also completely antitechnology, so they live like it’s 1900.” Egret looked up, as though her parents might be listening from somewhere in the clouds. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them. They can just be a little too hippie tree hugger for me sometimes. They don’t really get the whole punk rock thing, to say the least.”

  “Everyone’s parents can be like that. My mom’s awesome, literally one of the smartest people I know, but even she can be narrow-minded when it comes to… certain things about me.”

  “Oh really? Are your collared shirts not ironed enough for her? Or is it your perfect test scores that she can’t quite accept?”

  I thought back to the beginning of summer, when Lacey and I had stolen a bottle of her mom’s tequila and gotten so drunk that dressing me up in her mother’s wedding dress had seemed like a brilliant idea. There I was, surrounded by white tulle and crowned by a lace veil, when my mom and Lacey’s mom came home early from their girl’s night and found our living room fashion show. Perhaps my mom could have written off the dress as a prank, but the pink lipstick and heels? The bra and padding? Thong underwear? Not so much. Plus, word got around, and even the other moms in book club knew that the great Helen Hawthorne’s son was… different.

  We needed to move for her job, she’d said. Maine would
offer more opportunities for both of us, she’d said.

  I knew better.

  “Earth to Luke.” Egret waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you still in there?”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I tried to think of an excuse, but something behind Egret’s shoulder distracted me. “Hey, do you see those red lights behind you? They almost look like eyes.”

  Egret froze. Then slowly, using only her neck and head, she turned. The red eyes watched her move, black pupils focusing in and out like a camera lens, and then they blinked.

  “Oh my God,” Egret whispered under her breath. “They’ve come for me.”

  “They? Who’s they?”

  “There’s no time to explain. Listen, I’m going to do something crazy, and it’s not going to make sense, but you need to trust me. Okay?”

  “Okay, but—”

  Suddenly, Egret began to sprout feathers. They grew from her skin like buds in spring opening into flowers, until her whole body was covered in them. The color, deep green and lime, matched her hair perfectly. As though the transition to bird creature was not strange enough, Egret also grew—first one foot, and then another, until the span of each of her arms was as long as my whole body. Speaking of arms, these went too, becoming wings that she flapped expertly.

  The red eyes got closer, and then they became a man. Naked except for a cloth around his waist, the man had dark red skin, and his bald head was decorated in strange black symbols. Tattoo-like images also covered his arms and legs, and when he focused his eyes on me, the symbols flashed a fiery red and then returned to black. He looked larger and stronger than any real man I had ever seen, evidenced by the snap of every tree branch in his way.

  Get on, a voice told me. The bird previously known as Egret bowed her head, and reluctantly, I climbed on top of her. My fingers found feather holds, each one as strong as a grasping hand, and as soon as my body was secure on her back, Egret took off.