by Lee French
Too late to warn Justin, Claire figured stalling would be the next best thing. “Are you Anne?” She hopped into the woman’s way and kept her from getting past.
“Yes.” Anne shoved Claire aside.
Out of the corner of Claire’s eye, she noticed Tariel’s rump lying limp on the ground. She raced Anne to the horse, looking for Justin. Beyond Tariel, she found him on his hands and knees, blinking like an idiot, with his sword stuck in the dirt. Dragons stirred and rolled around.
Enion trilled with joy as he leaped off Claire’s shoulder and flew to join the clump of silver bodies.
“What’s going on back here?” Anne knelt beside Tariel’s head and stroked her neck.
Claire went for Justin. She had no idea how something as big as a horse could fall over without her hearing it from twenty feet away. Whatever caused it had kept Justin from making any noise either.
With Claire’s help, Justin sat up. He rubbed his face and shook his head. “Did you know about the dragons?”
“Of course I did,” Anne said. “Don’t be stupid. They eat the aphids and wasps that would otherwise devastate my garden.”
“Did you see anyone else back here?”
Claire offered him a steadying hand. Justin shook his head again and pushed it away.
Anne leaned forward and peered into Tariel’s eye. “Not that I can remember. Why do you ask? And what are you doing back here? What have you done to Tariel?”
“Dragons.” Justin planted one hand on Claire’s shoulder and braced the other against a nearby tree. He rose to his feet with a groan.
Claire leaned in and turned her back on Anne. “Are they really free?”
“Yes.” Justin took a deep breath and shifted to lean against the tree.
Anne stood and planted her fists on her hips. “Are you here to convince me not to come tomorrow?”
“Would you like me to?”
“Don’t be an ass. What did you do to Tariel? I could report you for animal cruelty.”
“Whatever. I don’t need this today.” One hand rubbing the bridge of his nose, Justin pushed Anne away hard enough to make her stumble.
“Is that how you treat my sister?”
Claire tried to block the argument out. She didn’t want to hear them snipe at each other like she’d heard so many foster parents do. Her attention shifted to the writhing mass of silver. All the dragons looked the same to her. Though they each probably had unique, distinguishing characteristics, she had no idea which one might be hers.
Squatting at the edge of the nest, she let the adults bicker in the background. “Enion, you can’t stay here anymore. You’re coming to live with me. You can visit sometimes, but as my sprite, you’ve got to stay with me.”
Chirps filled the air in a chorus, confused at first, then increasingly agitated. Claire backed away from what sounded like a heated argument and wished another one didn’t happen to be taking place behind her.
“Claire!” Justin’s booming shout cut through everything and silenced the dragons. “Tariel won’t be able to run for a while. Grab Enion and go through the Palace to get home. You can access it from any couch if you want it hard enough, and exit through any couch you know. Take the bus if you can’t manage that. Tell Marie I’ll be home later because I’m not leaving Tariel here.”
Anne opened her mouth but Justin held up a hand to cut her off. “Not now,” he said.
Hearing the weariness in his voice, Claire nodded and held out a hand. “Let’s go, Enion.” Though she’d never seen him be anything other than patient and earnest, she worried Justin might snap if too many people prodded him too much. Anne and Missy had both pushed him a lot this morning already.
Enion wriggled out of the throng and rocketed upward to land in Claire’s hand. “Can my flight come with us?”
Claire wanted to say yes, because having a pile of dragons in the backyard sounded incredible. One glance at Justin left her concerned he might disallow it even if he’d be inclined to agree after a good night of sleep. “We’ll have to talk about it later. Marie gets to have a say for things like that.”
As she hurried away, trying to figure out where to find a couch, Enion jumped onto her shoulder and called to the swarm, “See you soon!” Subdued chirps faded as Claire jogged up the street.
She knew which way Tariel had brought them and figured she’d eventually find a bus stop, a furniture store, a couch awaiting trash pickup, or something else of use so long as she headed in that same direction.
Enion hunkered down, his claws digging into her sweater. “They’re excited.”
“Me too. I hope they can come stay with us.” Spotting a gas station ahead, Claire slowed and thought about checking on Rondy. They could talk about her locket and make sure transferring the power would be the right choice. If he felt up to it, they could even take care of it. Afterward, she wanted to talk Drew into helping her convince Justin, Marie, Grandma, and Grandpa that they should have a bunch of dragons in the backyard.
With a firm plan, she set off in search of a couch.
Chapter 9
Justin
Justin rubbed his eyes, thinking he must have dreamed about finding and releasing the dragons. He lay in darkness, and it felt like his bed. His imagination had coughed up the first person he thought of to be hosting the dragons. Anne had been on his mind because that wine she preferred cost twenty bucks he didn’t have to spare, and he’d had to go get it this morning.
He patted the bed beside him and found only empty space. Marie must have let him sleep, which he appreciated. The pitch black bothered him, though. Their curtains couldn’t block out starlight, let alone sunlight. Even if he’d barely slept, he thought he remembered a full moon tonight.
Resolved to figure out the mystery with the lights on, he sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed, only to hit more bed with them. Stranger, he seemed to be wearing his boots. He patted his body down and discovered he also still wore his jeans, armor, and cloak. No matter how tired he might have been, he’d never wear any of that to bed.
Groping in the dark, he felt the surface he sat on and discovered it had no bed-like properties other than softness. He scooped up a handful of something that felt wet and sandy and wound up crawling on his hands and knees to find the edges.
He didn’t remember much past sending Claire away. He asked her to go, silenced Anne in the rudest way imaginable, and turned his attention to Tariel, still lying on the ground. He thought she might have been dazed by some kind of magical backlash that hit her harder because she had a stronger connection to magic.
After that, he remembered nothing. “Hello?”
Soft orange light spread on the horizon, starting as a tiny sliver and expanding until it showed him the beach he lay on with a thin layer of water rolling in and out. Seashells and clumps of kelp studded the sand. He reached out and touched the water as it slid close, finding it pleasantly warm. It drained away, out of sight, and surged back, like the ocean.
Somehow, he’d wound up in a Phasm’s demesne. Without his sword, he had no weapon here, which would make escape much more challenging. He took a deep breath and applied his will to punching a hole through the barrier between this demi-reality and the real world. Nothing happened. The Phasm probably had moved him away from the weak point in the barrier.
Intent on escaping to come back with his sword and deal with this, Justin stood and chose to walk along the beach. Finding the weak point would be a matter of pitting his will against the Phasm’s, so it didn’t matter which direction he walked, only that he moved his body while focusing his mind. The place should work similarly to the Palace Thoroughfare.
“Going someplace?”
Justin recognized the voice and froze. “Kurt?”
“I always knew you weren’t as dumb as you act.” The misty figure who stepped into the light had all of Kurt’s features without the years layered on top. This younger version had no creases or calluses or scars. By the time Justin had met hi
s mentor, Kurt’s belly had gone a bit soft, and his shoulders hadn’t been so straight and strong. This version shone in the prime of his life, near Justin’s own age.
There existed the slim chance Kurt hadn’t become corrupted yet. Justin had never encountered a Phasm with a demesne who hadn’t been, but he’d heard some of the Knights talking about the odd things they encountered from time to time. If anyone would be too irascible to do the usual thing, it would be Kurt.
“I can’t imagine why.” Justin grinned and offered Kurt his hand.
Kurt echoed the grin and slapped his hand into Justin’s. They shook, then Kurt pulled Justin in for a hug. He thumped Justin’s back with the same force he’d always used—enough to shake his bones.
Something pressed on Justin’s mind, in a flicker or an itch. Kurt could be on the brink of corruption. Justin wondered what it would take to push him over, either accidentally or on purpose. He focused on resisting what could be an accidental attempt at intrusion and hoped it didn’t put Kurt off.
“I guess it hasn’t been long,” Kurt said as he pulled away, “because you look exactly the same.” He seemed not to notice the quiet battle of wills taking place as his ghostly hand settled on Justin’s shoulder.
“No, not long at all. What is all this?”
“Not sure, boy, but my Emmy is here too.”
Justin blinked, not sure how to interpret that. Kurt’s wife shouldn’t appear in Kurt’s demesne. Except he remembered how the illusion Kurt had crafted of her in the Palace had been so detailed and precise that Justin had thought the woman real at first. When Kurt died, the illusion had still been there. That probably explained all this, at least to someone who understood magic.
“That’s great. Why am I here, though? I need to get back home. I have an apprentice now, and she needs training worse than I did.”
Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “She?”
“Long story.”
“I bet.” Kurt stroked his chin, watching Justin. “I guess you could say I need your help, boy.”
His heart sinking, Justin stifled a sigh. If the old man wanted what every corrupted Phasm wanted—help destroying the Palace—Justin would have to find a way to convince Kurt to let him go so he could come back with his sword. “With what?”
Kurt draped an arm over Justin’s shoulders and urged him to walk along the coastline. “My family. It’s kind of a minor thing, really. More about my ego than any major disaster or threat to the world. But I know I can count on you to help me out.”
Though this sounded like a less than sinister job, Justin remained suspicious. Kurt had far too much awareness of himself. That itch in Justin’s mind had only faded a tiny bit. He decided he’d agree to almost anything. If he could do it without peril, he would. No matter what, though, when he came back, he’d bring his sword.
“Sure thing, Kurt. You know how I feel about family. What do you need me to do?”
“You know my wife, Emmy, died several years ago. The worst part? I lost my daughter and her husband right around then too. They had a son, a little boy at the time. The state asked me to take him in, but I was just too upset about Emmy at the time. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a kid. Maybe that was wrong or dumb, but that boy went into foster care. I’m hoping you can track him down, check up on him, make sure he’s okay.”
Relieved that the task had nothing to do with Palace, Justin nodded. He knew Kurt couldn’t be corrupted. “What’s his name?”
“It’s…hum.” Kurt’s face screwed up in frustration. “I can’t remember. His mother was my daughter, so he’s got her husband’s last name. Huh. I guess I was a worse granddad than I thought.”
The memory lapse put Justin more at ease. “It’s okay, Kurt. What can you tell me about him?”
Kurt squinted at the sunset. “Redhead, like his dad. In fact, he looked a lot like his dad and hardly anything like me. Blue eyes. I think he wore glasses, or maybe that was his dad. Skinny. Didn’t think he’d ever be a Knight.”
Justin eyed Kurt, wondering if finding Drew with Claire had been an accident or not. “Last name Sanders, by any chance?”
“You know, that sounds fair familiar.”
“Then I think I know where he is. Jack is fostering a kid just like that. He’s my apprentice’s best friend.”
“Huh. Ain’t that a kick in the pants. Could you bring him by? I’d like to see the boy, see how he turned out. Maybe apologize if I need to.”
If Drew wasn’t Kurt’s grandson, bringing him here would cause no real harm. Kurt wouldn’t hurt him, and Drew would probably wind up seeing more than a ghost or two if he hung around Claire long enough. If Drew did happen to be Kurt’s grandson, though, he’d be reuniting them, which struck Justin as a good thing.
“Sure. I can do that.”
Chapter 10
Claire
Though she could have found a bus stop much closer, Claire jogged ten minutes to reach a furniture store recommended by the guy working at the gas station. She carefully tucked the dagger into the waistband of her skirt to avoid having the cops called on her and stepped inside the store with no idea how to use a foreign couch as her gateway into the Palace. She’d only ever used the one at Justin’s house before.
The huge space held rows of beds, a wall covered with television sets, full kitchen displays, a sea of dining room sets, a vast array of armchairs, and a horde of couches. White, black, brown, and beige dominated the room with splashes of color on the upholstered pieces and chrome in the kitchens. Claire figured familiarity might help and edged toward the couches, checking for a brown leather one.
“Can I help you?”
Not expecting to be noticed and accosted, Claire jumped. Enion dove for her hips and searched for a pocket, only to discover she had none. He wriggled under the back of her shirt.
“I’m so sorry!” The woman who’d addressed her touched the shoulder Enion had been sitting on only moments ago. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Claire waved her off. “Oh, no. I wasn’t scared. Just, um, yeah.”
The woman wore a green sweater over a white shirt with black pants and black heels. She smiled at Claire. After getting a thousand fake smiles in foster care, Claire thought she could pick them out pretty well, but this one seemed real. Her name tag read Isabella.
“Can I help you find anything?”
“Oh. Um.” Justin had never said anything about doing what they do in front of normal people. He hadn’t forbidden it and hadn’t said anything about how they would react or why no one knew about the Spirit Knights. His family all knew the basics, yet he avoided doing anything overtly magical in front of them. Claire had no idea if hopping into a couch while Isabella watched would cause some kind of disaster. Neither did she know if seeing a dragon would make Isabella’s brain explode.
Isabella’s smile faltered. “Are your parents still in the car?”
“No. I’m, um, sort of…advance scouting?”
“Oh, of course.” Isabella’s smile returned full force. “What are you looking for?”
As long as she had Isabella’s attention and couldn’t shake it, Claire figured she might as well use it. “A leather couch.”
“Have you come to the right place!” Isabella hooked her arm through Claire’s and guided her through the industrial carpet maze of furniture. The woman chattered about other options besides leather, none of which interested Claire. She did her best to make appropriate sounds at pauses to avoid being rude.
“These are the leather models. Each one comes in a variety of colors, of course. What size of couch are you looking for?”
“Um, is it okay if I just kind of look around and try them out?”
“Sure.” Isabella released Claire’s arm and stepped back, watching.
Her attempt to shake this woman having failed, Claire decided her only option involved pretending Isabella didn’t exist. She took a deep breath and wandered through the couches, stopping when she found a brown one with three cushi
ons, like a new version of Justin’s. He’d said any couch should work. He wouldn’t lie to her about something like this.
She sat on the springy, squishy couch and remembered the nice stuff her parents had, once upon a time. They had favored velvety fabrics over leather. If only Justin and Marie could afford nice things like this.
“It is nice, isn’t it?”
Claire turned around to find Isabella standing behind her. “Yes.” She had to ignore the woman and hope nothing bad happened. Shutting her eyes, she focused on her desire to go to the Palace.
“That particular one has a matching loveseat, armchair, ottoman, and sectional.” Isabella’s voice moved like she’d decided to come around and face Claire to talk her into this couch.
At home, doing this still took effort. Claire hadn’t done it very many times yet, and she had to concentrate. In this strange place, she needed to focus even more. Isabella clearly didn’t want to let that happen. Claire stifled the urge to jump up and punch Isabella to shut her up. She knew nothing good would come of that.
“Are you all right?”
Claire said nothing. With her eyes still shut and trying to imagine her room in the Palace, she hoped Isabella would take a hint. She forced herself to think about stone floors and walls.
“Are you having a seizure?”
“What?” Unable to ignore the question, Claire snapped her eyes open and found Isabella giving her the most sincere look of concern imaginable. “No. I’m just— Can I have a minute, please?”
“Oh. Of course.” Finally, Isabella turned and walked away.
Claire shut her eyes and demanded the Palace let her in. In her head, she begged, she shouted, she raged. When nothing happened after several minutes, she opened her eyes and stood, still in the furniture store. She’d failed at the most basic part of being a Knight and had no idea why. Shoulders slumped, she ignored Isabella’s annoyingly cheerful entreaties and shuffled outside.
Light rain had begun while she’d sat inside the store. She stopped herself from being too relieved about the lack of wind, in case the universe heard her and decided to fix it.