by Jen Crane
“Eiv—” Bay cleared her hoarse throat. “We’ll have to gather Eiven’s remains and bring them. We can sprinkle them over Stryde. He’d like that.”
At the reminder I glanced at Stryde’s body, but couldn’t make sense of what I saw. He had reduced to a dense lump, his body turning in and shrinking like melted plastic. Bay’d been right. He would fit in the hole.
She gathered Stryde gingerly and placed him in the grave, then closed her eyes in silent goodbye. I followed her to the porch for Eiven.
“Will ye get the smaller tarp from the shed, dear?” Bay asked.
I soon discovered the need for the tarp, for once we disturbed Eiven’s remains they crumbled to dust and small, dry chunks. Together Bay and I slid the flat canvas under Eiven’s charred remains in an effort to salvage them for transport. The process took a long time, though the task itself wasn’t labor intensive. Each time we began, Bay would stop for several hard moments and breathe in an effort to regain her composure. She had difficulty looking at the black mass, but dealt with the task at hand as she did most things: with utilitarian, purpose-driven efficiency. I envied Bay’s ability to remove emotion from necessity. But I didn’t envy the countless heartaches and trials she’d endured in order to develop the ability.
I felt her pain, her sorrow—along with some of my own—and my emotions manifested with force as I worked, though she never said a word.
We folded Eiven’s remains into the tarp like a flag ceremony at a soldier’s funeral. She held them reverently to her chest and carried them to the grave site before unfolding them onto Stryde’s shriveled body. We both stared into the grave unmoving, not speaking.
* * *
My legs gave out with exhaustion, but I caught myself before I fell down completely. Bay sought my gaze, but remained stony.
“What now?” I whispered.
“Now we replace the soil, dear.”
At the thought of moving earth, a scratchy vision began to play behind my eyes. It was something I’d seen Gaspare do. Something I never dreamed I’d do myself. In the premonition I used a magic I didn’t know I possessed to cover the grave with a wave of my hand. The vision then expanded to reveal Bay’s reaction to my magic, and her acceptance of it. She lay her eyes closed and nodded a weary encouragement.
The premonition gave me the confidence, the permission I needed, and I returned the heavy soil to the hollow, closing the grave of Eiven and Stryde Drakontos.
She didn’t address what I’d done, but said, “You’re tired, girl. Will ye stay here?”
I suspected she asked as much for herself as she did for me. “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
* * *
A groan left my aching throat as I approached consciousness. It was less a result of the awkward position I woke in than the sore muscles from the night before. Hastily changing into several forms, a fight for my life, the digging of a grave—all events I’d rather not be reminded of, but my aching body had different ideas.
Bay was in the kitchen, a kettle of coffee over an open flame in the old stove top. She sensed my awareness but didn’t look at me. “Coffee and bacon’s on the stove,” she said. “Be done in a jif.”
I nodded and pried myself from the couch.
“I’ll be leavin’ after we eat,” she said.
“What?” I croaked and looked up. “Where’re you goin?”
She finished drying her hands and lay the worn dish towel on the counter. She’d pulled her gray hair back into a bun—practically the only granny-like thing about her. She dragged her dull green eyes in my direction and combed her hair back nervously with her fingers.
“I’m goin’ to find yer mam,” she said. “Goin’ to yer world.”
“My world—why? What do you mean?”
“I canna stay here,” she said firmly. “There’s nae reason.” Her accent was thick—whether from emotions or exhaustion, I didn’t know. “With Eiven and Stryde gone, I’ve nothin’. I willna stay here alone.”
“But,” I stuttered. “I’ll stay here with you. I won’t leave you alone, Bay.”
“Nae, dear. Ye canna be seen with me, and ye know it well.”
“No one will know,” I argued. “I’ll go to school each day and return in the afternoons. I’ll think of some excuse.”
“No. I willna have ye sacrificin’ for me. My mind’s made. You and Edina are all I have left. I know yer safe at The Root, where ye belong. But I dinna know where my Edina is.”
Her eyes softened and her speech slowed. “I’ll find her, help her remember who she is. I’ll bring her back.”
I stepped toward Bay and reached to run my hands around her shoulders. I’d never tried to hug her before—nor she me. But I held her to me like I’d lose her, too. She exhaled a weary breath and squeezed me back.
“You don’t know where to look,” I said as I held her. “Let me go with you.”
“No, dear,” she said, in control of emotions once more. “I’ll go. I didna make it this long without a good head on my shoulders, and a few tricks up my sleeve. I’ll be fine. And it’ll be best if I find her alone.”
She was right, but it still seemed so sudden, such a rash decision after the horrific loss she’d suffered.
Though a change of scenery might be best.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. And when you find her…tell her…tell her I miss her. That I’m fine; I’ll make it, but I miss her.”
Bay looked up at me, and the wrinkles of her face had doubled overnight. They carved deep lines across her forehead, around her tired eyes and down sunken cheeks.
She nodded her gray head and wiped a single tear from my eye with the pad of her thumb.
Chapter 30
I stayed at the cabin with Bay until she left. She recovered from her lapse of emotion and gathered her things almost clinically. She nodded goodbye to me, promised she’d see me again, and traced away.
Once she was gone, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Emotionally and physically hung-over, home was my most pressing need, so I traced to the end of my bed in Sabre Hall. I fell backward onto my soft quilt, allowing the comfort and familiarity of my bed to embrace me for a glorious moment.
“Whatthehellareyoudoinghere?” whispered Timbra through my mind. “Are you insane? You can’t be here.”
“Wha—” I began and she shushed me with authority.
“Hush. Don’t make a sound. They’re monitoring your room. They’ll know you’re here.”
“Who’s monitoring my room?” I shot back. “And why?”
“Why? You can’t be serious. You turned into your freaking dragon in front of half The Root. Thank the gods you put that ward around your room or they’d have caught you when you traced in. Ha! They were so furious when they couldn’t enter. Tried everything they knew. And you owe Emrynne big time. She stood there and watched the entire thing. Never offered to take down the ward; she never told them it was hers.”
“Slow down!” I yelled to the best of my telepathic ability. “Who tried everything they knew? Who’s after me?”
“The damned authorities, Stella. Radix Admin. Gresham. Everyone. Why you came back here is beyond me. You have to leave. Now.”
“Leave? But. I don’t have anywhere to go. Maybe I can just explain. A lot’s happened. The dragons are all gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone?’ Wait. Never mind. You’ve got to get out of here. We can talk later.”
I groaned pitifully and tried to collect my thoughts. Where could I go?
Not to Ewan’s—that was the last place I’d been seen. Oh no. I hoped we didn’t destroy too much of his beautiful family home. And I hoped his family wasn’t suspect or being interrogated. Oh god. Memories of how I’d shoved him behind me, thrown him from Stryde’s reach, came flooding back. He was probably furious with me. But he was alive; he could be mad just as long as he needed—he was still breathing.
Gresham’s was out. Who could I trust. Layla’s mother? No. That would just be dragging someone e
lse into my mess.
Gaspare? I felt close to him, connected. I knew he cared for me, too. But his political responsibilities made how he’d respond to my predicament an unknown. I had enough ‘unknowns’ to deal with and couldn’t risk another.
Finally the obvious trickled to the front of my muddy brain.
“I’m going somewhere safe,” I sent to Timbra in her room. “I’m not telling you where, just in case. But meet me at sundown where we skinny-dipped after the Solstice Fest. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Okay,” she said. “Be safe, girl.”
“I’ll do my best.”
* * *
The Drakontos’ cabin was lonely without them. Too quiet, with too many ghosts. I wasn’t frightened of being there, and it was still daylight out, but Eiven and Stryde’s fresh graves were just feet away. If I’d had anywhere else in the world to go, I would have. Choosing to be alone was one thing. But being relegated to a hideout without human contact at the same location I’d just dug a grave for two dead relatives was another thing entirely.
If I’d been using my brain, I would’ve forced Bay to let me go with her. I’d been so distraught about Eiven and Stryde, about her own departure, that I didn’t think back to the party the night before. I never once considered what had happened after I left Ewan’s to lure Stryde from the guests; from him.
Of course everyone knew about me now. We’d invited fifty people. No way could you mitigate that kind of damage.
I ran my hands over my gritty face, scrubbed at my eyes. Time was irrelevant, nonexistent, and I stared at nothing pulling strands of my auburn hair through my fingers over and over.
I read once that in stressful situations, the higher up on one's body their hands were placed, the worse the situation and the feeling of hopelessness. This was a doozy.
What I really needed was a shower. That struck me as a helluva great idea. It was also the only idea I had.
* * *
The primitive cabin had less what I’d call a shower, and more what I’d call a trickle. But it was water, there was soap, and I lost myself in the mindless effort to scrub my body clean. I emerged no less at a loss of what to do, but at least less foul. And that was something. Baby steps away from bleakness.
I busied myself throughout the day with chores. First, I tackled the gaping hole in the roof of the cabin left by Bay’s furious exit. I used the remaining tarp to cover the hole and tied it down as best I could.
Next was cleaning up the musty retreat. I couldn’t find the willpower to remove Eiven and Stryde’s belongings from their room, but did move Bay’s things in with them. If this was to be my home for a while, I might as well have my own space. Maybe Timbra could sneak the rest of my clothes out; I’d only grabbed a few essentials when I rushed from Sabre.
One of the few small windows revealed twilight approaching. I changed, pulled my hair back, and left to meet Timbra at the swimming hole near the Basel River where we’d been so wild, so carefree, just a few weeks before.
Tracing just beyond the sandy bank, I waited at the tree line. There was no way to know if she would come alone, as planned. Nervous and edgy, I jumped at every stray sound.
I waited. Waited. I mindlessly traced circles in the dirt with my sneaker when rustling near the water alerted me to someone’s presence. Timbra’s cervid ancestry gave her the ability to move eerily quietly, so the noise level frightened me. I backed deeper into the woods and squatted behind a fallen tree trunk.
Then I caught scent of him. Ewan. Sweet, strong…home. I ran from my hiding spot right into his waiting arms. He buried his face in my shoulder, wrapped his big arms around me and squeezed so hard and so long I thought I’d meld into him.
He wrapped the long hair of my ponytail around his hand and pulled back to look me over.
I couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
“I was afraid you’d be furious with me,” I said, my eyes still downcast.
“I am,” he rasped, and I flinched. “I’m mad as hell.”
He took my lips in his soft, warm ones, then leaned his forehead against mine. We stayed that way—his big hands in my hair, his forehead pressed to mine, his chest heaving with relieved breaths.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had to save you, Ewan. Pushing you behind me was…emasculating, I know, but Stryde was crazy. He could take you out with one strike. I had to get him away from you, from everyone.”
Ewan lifted his face and his chestnut eyes scorched my mine. I flinched at the depth of emotion they betrayed. He held my face in his hands and ran his thumbs across my cheekbones.
“I don’t care about that,” he said. “Where have you been? I was so afraid he hurt you. I didn’t know where to look, but I searched all night.” His breath left his chest in a shudder. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”
I lay my head on his firm shoulder, and tears threatened to spill onto my cheeks. I wiped my eyes on his heathered shirt and squeezed his tight middle.
“Don’t ever do that to me again, Stella.” He shook me, just a little, and I swallowed hard. Couldn’t yet speak. “I can’t take it,” he went on. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
Ewan’s curly hair was wild from his long night searching for me. I touched his lips with my fingertips, recalling the feel of them that night at the lake, the perfection we had achieved. I thought about how afraid I’d been for his life, how easily the sacrifice of revealing my dragon came when compared to losing him.
Then I remembered the vicious look in Ewan’s eyes as he closed his slavering wolf mouth on the scales of my tail.
“You bit my ass,” I accused.
“Mmm,” he agreed, then his smile turned wicked. “And I’ll do it again if you’re good.”
I laughed and snuggled tightly into his big body.
The conspicuous clearing of a man’s throat pulled me back to the present. My gaze shot to the direction of the sound—to the river bank—and there in the dark I saw the outlines of Boone, Timbra, Layla, and Mari.
“But... What are you all doing here?” I asked and stepped away from Ewan.
“We wanted to come. We want to help—however we can.” Boone’s deep voice held authority, finality.
“No. You can’t be here. If they find out you’re associating with me you’ll all be in trouble, too.”
“We’re willing to take that risk,” Layla said. “We know what you are—who you are. And we accept that.”
“But…you hate dragons. Everyone does. And for good reason. If you think you accept who I am then you don’t know the whole story.”
“They know the whole story.” Timbra swung her doe eyes up to meet mine, and her ears twitched nervously. She was guilty but determined. She’d told them.
“What did you do?” I breathed.
“What did I do?” she squeaked. “You turned into a flippin’ dragon in front of half the school. It was either tell the truth or let imaginations run wild. I chose the truth. I chose to defend you.”
“She did the right thing, Stell,” Ewan said. “We all support you; we know who you really are. Those of us here knew at least some of it already.”
“And now everyone knows,” I said and sat down in the sand. I held my head in my hands, covered my eyes and asked, “How bad is it?”
No one responded. I risked a look at each of their faces. Layla was tediously studying the back of her hand. Mari helped. Boone and Timbra looked at each other sideways and threw elbows as if to say ‘You do it.’ ‘No, you do it.’
Ewan’s high cheeks fell when his smile disappeared. His face was no longer filled with relief, but with pity.
I hate pity—such a useless emotion. Hope, that’s helpful. Fear is useful at least. But pity? No thank you.
“How bad, Ewan?” He moved his head from side to side, trying—and failing—to fool me with his aloof body language. “Give it to me straight. I can take it. This day can’t possibly get any worse.”
/> “Well,” he stalled. “There aren’t any formal charges or anything. But, ah, the school, the town, and in fact, the fair majority of Thayer is in an uproar about the revelation that dragons exist. They know you’re one of them. I mean, you changed right there for all to see.” When I began to protest he stopped me. “I know you had to. If left unchecked Stryde could have decimated the entire party. We told them that—that you defended me, all of us, and sacrificed yourself.”
“The problem is,” Boone said gently, “no one really differentiates between you and Stryde. A dragon’s a dragon, in most views. There’s no good or bad person, just a dragon, which people have feared and hated their whole lives.”
Timbra nodded. “And the people who interviewed me asked how many more dragons were out there. They fear another attack; that there’s a militia of surviving dragons planning to attack Thayer again.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this mess. Who interviewed you? What did they say?”
“There was a committee from The Root,” Timbra rolled her eyes. “Vice Chancellor Edgecliffe, Professor Lochlain…Dean Miles.”
“Dean Mi—are you kidding me? She hates me already. Hell. I—”
“That’s not all,” Timbra cut in. “Government officials, too.”
I squinted my eyes at her and she shrugged. It wasn’t her fault, after all. “Anyone I know?” I knew the answer to that question.
“Gresham,” she said.
Ewan growled low in his throat and stepped forward to loom over me. I looked up at him from my seat in the sand and gave him an exasperated shake of my head. He backed off a little, but not much.
“Gresham knows everything,” I said. “What could he possibly ask?” Ewan was still throwing off a low rumble, which accelerated at ‘knows everything.’
“Actually,” Timbra said a bit sharply. “He didn’t know you were associating with the Drakontos. He was very surprised to learn I’d met Stryde before at the restaurant…of course, so was I.”