by Amparo Ortiz
His fire is gone.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air, even though I’m still falling to my death.
Then something breaks my fall.
“Ugh!” I lurch forward as the wind’s knocked out of me. Whatever’s cushioning me is hard and soft at the same time, a bed made of jagged rock and supple skin. My whole spine is a throbbing extravaganza. Still, I look down at what’s beneath me. I sigh in relief—black scales. I’ve landed on a Sol de Noche’s back.
“Nice shot,” Victoria says behind me.
No. Freaking. Way. Am I hallucinating? Or did Victoria Peralta really save my life?
“What are you doing here?” I whisper breathlessly. “You said—”
“I know what I said. Now, hold on. This is gonna get rough.”
I rush to sit behind her, still making sense of what just happened. Victoria went against her word to rescue me. She’s steering Esperanza higher and higher. The Sire is trying to flee before she gets him. He’s still crying out, but the jerk is strong enough to fly away.
Five Sol de Noche dragons appear all around him. They trap him in a circle again.
“Do you know the plan?” I ask Victoria.
“Obviously! Hang on!”
The Sire turns around just in time to meet Esperanza face-to-face. When he roars at her, I can see what was once his propeller caged within ice. It’s cracked and dented from the Sire’s attempts to burn the ice away. Drops of blood splatter the ice cage’s roof. He still attempts to burn Esperanza, but his efforts only slow the rest of his reflexes down. Esperanza sinks her teeth into his neck, which causes him to growl in fury. Then she buries her claws into his wings.
Esperanza rips the Sire’s wings out.
They soar down into the smoke and debris. They’re a pair of gleaming silver petals sinking into a thick, gray cloud—worthless reminders of a dragon without flight and fire.
The Sire cries louder than Daga ever did. He’s trapped in Esperanza’s claws, which she attaches to his wingless sides. She shoves him down and falls with him. For a few seconds, the world remains the same. We’re hurtling toward the smoke and debris.
Then it’s all night and black sand. Esperanza launches us into the Dark Island. The other Sol de Noche dragons are hot on her trail. President Turner is right where we left him, his jaw dropping when he spots us. Esperanza shoves the Sire into the pit with the claw towers. While the team’s dragons hover around the pit, Esperanza pins the Sire with a victorious roar. Then she flies out, leaving the rest of the dragons to bend the towers forward with their claws, curving them into spikes aimed at the Sire. He can’t move without getting stabbed.
I half expect myself to smile. It’s over. He’s not hurting anyone else ever again. The only company he’ll keep is his tortured roars. But seeing him stuck does nothing to ease the pain of losing Andrew. It doesn’t wash away the bitterness of how I played a part in that loss.
I helped him win.
“What’s up with you?” Victoria surprises me with a soft, almost motherly tone, and I realize I’m crying again. “Cheer up. This is a happy moment.”
I give her a single nod, wiping my tears away. “Yeah … it’s just …”
I can’t even say he’s dead.
Victoria frowns but doesn’t try to coax details out. She calls to everyone, “Let’s hit the road. We’re still needed outside. That includes you, Mister President! We have to go!”
Farther away from the pit, President Turner is as still as a corpse. Then he reaches out in the Sire’s direction. His hand lingers in midair as if he longs to confirm what he’s seeing. I can’t imagine how it must feel to see the dragon that cursed him in this state. From the way the president’s shaking his head, I don’t think he fully accepts what’s happening. Tears pool in his heavy-lidded eyes. “His wings are … His fire …” he whispers. “He’s … nothing.”
“You can thank us later!” Luis smiles. “Hop on with Gabriela!”
President Turner can’t stop staring at the Sire as Gabriela helps him onto Puya’s back. It’s like he’s committing his weeping to memory. So I do the same. The Sire’s wails won’t bring Andrew back. Or erase the terrible things he’s done. But I’ll know he hurts because of us.
Six black dragons fly side by side with their triumphant chorus still ringing in my ears.
Then the darkness spits me back out into another sky made of night.
“You can do great things with this opportunity, but it’s easier to be careless. It’s easier to act like the world’s laws don’t apply to you. It’s all about remembering what matters most. The Cup itself doesn’t make you a winner. How you handle yourself in the spotlight does.”
—Excerpt from a 2015 interview with Takeshi Endo, seven days before the Cup
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE SMOKE’S BEEN CLEARED FROM THE SÃO PAULO SANCTUARY.
Magic holds the top half of the habitat in place.
Twenty-two Dragon Knights kneel with their arms behind their backs in the courtyard. They’ve all been bound with a Handcuff Charm. Dozens of bureau agents surround them, wands aimed at their chests. Samira waves up at me as Esperanza descends. She’s standing next to Takeshi and an awestruck Director Sandhar.
Takeshi’s in handcuffs, too. He’s perfectly still, watching me dismount.
“Are you guys hurt?” I run over and ask.
“Not at all,” Samira replies. “I cast a Shield Charm before we hit the ground.” She gives me a big hug. “What about you? I saw you jumping at the Sire!”
“Yeah.” I let her go. “The Sire’s locked up without his fire.”
“So it worked?”
“It worked.”
President Turner draws up behind us. He seems stuck in a dreamlike state, his gaze, weighed down and gleaming, drifting from person to person. “I can still hear his voice. The Sire is trying to make me threaten the dragons’ lives, but I can resist him without feeling any pain. He can’t hurt me.” He points to the Sol de Noches. “Their magic is weakening the Anchor Curse.”
“And the contracts?” asks Director Sandhar, gripping his wand a little too tight.
The president’s face scrunches up. “Let’s see.” He pulls out his wand, then conjures a contract from thin air. “He’s screaming at me to stop,” he says with a coy smile. President Turner aims his wand at the contract. With a flick of his wrist, a silver line appears at the center of the scroll, spreading out in the shape of a snowflake. Every inch of the contract glows in starlight as it crystallizes. The edges start to crack little by little.
BOOM!
I cover my head as a shower of silver sparkles falls all around us. They’re already pretty, but they’re even prettier when I remember what they used to be. How the Sire’s words have exploded into nothing. At long last, we’re free.
“His will isn’t mine anymore,” a relieved President Turner declares. He brushes off a few sparkles from his suit jacket. “How did he break his curse? He couldn’t use Eddie’s blood.”
I glance down, biting hard so the tears stay away.
Samira says, “He used his son’s blood.”
President Turner gapes at her. He’s scratching the back of his head, as if he’s struggling to understand what he’s just heard. “Eddie didn’t have a son.”
“He didn’t know,” Samira says. “Neither one knew about the other. Andrew’s mother found out she was pregnant after Barnes cursed the Sire. She kept his father’s identity a secret to protect him. Andrew only found out minutes before his death.”
President Turner is paler than he’d been under the Anchor Curse. “Andrew was … his son?” So he had no idea, then. He’s frantically searching for a place to sit. Héctor and Gabriela grab his hands. They lead him to one of the few benches that hasn’t been smashed to bits.
“Galloway is dead?” Victoria presses a hand to her rosy cheek, her brow furrowed.
I can only nod.
“Oh no …” Génesis covers her mouth. She lets Edwin
hug her, even though he’s shaken as well. Luis tries to speak twice, but nothing comes out.
This is the worst part of losing someone. It’s not when you realize they’re never coming back. It’s when you’re reminded of the moment, over and over again. It drains me to watch President Turner and my teammates grapple with the news. The Sire might be our prisoner, but he’s made sure we’ll never forget we were once his.
Director Sandhar clears his throat. “Andrew’s body has been found. I have agents prepping him for Transport at the moment.” He lowers his head. “We’re taking him and Randall to forensics in New York once we corroborate the Sire’s location. Samira here explained what she could, but I need to see it for myself. I need to know he truly has been put away.”
“Wait. Randall’s already dead?” I say.
“He’s still agonizing,” Takeshi says, remorseless. He turns to Director Sandhar. “Get him to confirm Antonio Deluca’s whereabouts. As one of the few Gold Wands alive, his rescue should be a top bureau priority, especially if he’s spent the past two years with Dragon Knight captors. He also has sensitive information on another of your most pressing cases.”
“Don’t speak to me about priorities.” Director Sandhar seems seconds away from yelling. “Killing Randall wasn’t your mission, Agent Endo. Neither was cutting off all communication with me, stealing bureau property, or kidnapping your colleague for public execution.”
“Agent Endo?” President Turner peeks up at Takeshi, his posture ramrod straight.
Director Sandhar sighs in exasperation. “He joined the bureau a year ago, Russell. He’s been undercover for the past eight months. Though it appears he only wanted access to our intel and Dragonshade.” He looks like a disappointed father. “A thief, a liar, and a traitor.”
Takeshi isn’t the slightest bit interested in defending himself.
Part of his plan involved the dragon hiding in Sweden. “What happened to the Waxbyrne Fire Drake after you stole her crystal heart?” I ask.
His grin should be illegal. It makes him seem five years younger, canceling out the bags under his eyes, the dark gleam haunting his irises. “I didn’t steal it. She gave it to me, just like the male I found six months after Hikaru’s murder. It took me longer to gain her trust. She didn’t believe me when I promised to protect her rider, but after I video-called him to confirm he’s alive, she gave me the crystal heart and accepted my help in fleeing Sweden. She’s with a friend of mine now. You all know her as the Ghost of Shibuya, but I just call her Haya.”
Gabriela gasps. “Team Japan’s Runner?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “Why would she be with Haya Tanaka? What about her rider?”
Director Sandhar steps forward. “That’s classified informa—”
“Agent Robinson is her rider,” Takeshi says. “His death was faked. I chose him for the execution because someone other than the Sire is hunting him. It was the perfect excuse to send him into hiding. Agent Robinson will reunite with the Fire Drake soon. They’re safer with Haya than with the bureau.”
“Takeshi.” Director Sandhar spits out the word. “You’re not cleared to speak of this!”
I walk around the director, facing Takeshi. “But if Agent Robinson is the Fire Drake’s rider, couldn’t he have created an Other Place to hide her? Why was she left at a wand shop?”
Director Sandhar waves me off. “Like I said, that’s classified informa—”
“He was Madame Waxbyrne’s lover,” Takeshi says. “The person who’s trying to kill him is one of the most dangerous murderers the bureau has ever faced—a former wand-making student of Madame Waxbyrne’s, and Antonio Deluca’s ex-girlfriend.”
“TAKESHI!” Director Sandhar is inches away from Takeshi’s face. “Enough!”
So the rider had been linked to Madame Waxbyrne like Papi thought! Whoever this former student is, she doesn’t sound like a walk in the park, especially if she once dated a guy who punched another athlete out of envy. I hope Takeshi’s right about the Fire Drake being safe with Haya Tanaka. I hope this murderer never lays a finger on that poor dragon.
“I helped expose a Dragon Knight in your department,” says Takeshi. “Agent Grant West led me to the Fire Drake and Carlos Torres. Your agents found him unconscious next to my Recorder, which secretly captured our conversations.” He pauses. “You’re welcome.”
Director Sandhar slaps both hands behind his neck. His nostrils flare as he inches even closer to Takeshi. “Listen, you—”
“Takeshi helped us stop the Sire,” I say. “He saved my friends. He’s with us.” My chest tightens. Andrew would’ve loved to hear me admit that. He’ll never know his best friend was a bureau agent. He’ll never know Hikaru was avenged. That he’s been avenged, too.
“Ms. Torres, I’m Transporting you and Samira to bureau headquarters ahead of everyone else,” says Director Sandhar. He’s so fed up it’s not even funny. “Your father is waiting for you there. Neither of you are to leave until you’ve been properly interrogated. Is that clear?”
Samira says, “Yes, Director.”
I remain silent.
Director Sandhar cocks his eyebrow at me. “Ms. Torres? Is that clear?”
“The same boy who killed your son killed Takeshi’s dragon steed. He killed Andrew. I’m not defending what Takeshi’s done. He did commit crimes. He did betray your trust. But he’s not like them.” I motion to the handcuffed Dragon Knights. “He risked his neck to get you intel.”
At least the director’s not scowling. His eyebrows hang low, along with his shoulders. He reminds me of what I used to look like when I started running—frustrated and spent.
Bureau agents wheel two stretchers into the courtyard.
On one lies a body covered with a white blanket from head to toe. Andrew. I pretend to care about the clouds while the agents walk away. When I look back down, more agents file out with the second stretcher, which has been left uncovered. Randall’s arms and legs are strapped tight. His eyes are wildly unfocused. His darkened veins pop out even more.
His gaze finds Director Sandhar’s. “Father … don’t let me die like this.”
Director Sandhar studies his veins from afar. He gulps down hard, taking his sweet time drinking in the boy he helped raise. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve done more to save you.”
Randall wails. This boy has always been a tool. He grew accustomed to being used long before the Sire tricked him into believing he was free. Now he’ll never know what freedom is.
Director Sandhar turns his back on Randall. “Get them both to headquarters,” he says to the agents. “I’ll meet you there soon.”
“Father, please … Don’t let me die alone.…”
SWISH!
Randall disappears along with Andrew’s body.
Director Sandhar then turns back to Takeshi. He bumps his fists against each other, then hides them behind his back, as if he’s tempted to crush Takeshi into powder.
I wedge myself between them. “Arrest Takeshi. Charge him for his crimes. Just remember there are real Dragon Knights still out there. Remember what we’re fighting for.”
Director Sandhar’s eyes go wide. He’s smiling at me. “We?”
I lift my chin. “Yes. We.”
“I’ll make sure never to forget that.” He nods to his wand. “Now will you please join Ms. Jones so I may Transport you to New York together?”
“Wait.” I turn to Takeshi. Given all he’s endured, I never would’ve been capable of planning such a detailed, vicious payback. Now his freedom is gone, and he didn’t even get to kill the Sire, because he listened to me instead. “Thank you, Takeshi. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. I’m sorry you lost Andrew, too. He believed in you more than you know.”
I walk away before he can respond.
“Lana?” he calls out.
Of course I stop and look at him.
Takeshi smiles like someone who’s been crushed under the weight of their sor
row, unsure of how to make it stop, but is trying their best. “I once told you to believe in the world that’s coming. That was a mistake. The world I wanted to live in was filled with anger, but your heart and your courage gave me hope. I watched you run and fight and stand up to the Sire, but when you stood up to me, I saw that the world worth believing in is the one we’re in now.”
Whoa. Takeshi Endo is complimenting me. I never expected to mean anything to the person who once mattered most to me. My mouth is too dry to speak, so I give him a quick nod. I ignore Samira’s dramatic throat clearing and focus on Director Sandhar.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” we answer together.
I wave goodbye to everyone as the courtyard drowns in the whitest light.
THE INTERNATIONAL BUREAU OF MAGICAL MATTERS IS JUST A FANCY thing to call a bunch of gilded elevators in a circular, marble-tiled chamber. There’s a painted mural in between the elevators at the center. It features a wizard raising his wand, a Regular woman carrying a book, and a gray dragon calmly posing behind them. They represent everyone under the bureau’s protection. All three stand on a cliff’s edge. Dark clouds float above them, along with black-and-white tendrils of smoke that reach down for their necks. They appear unfazed by the shadowy threats.
Agent Horowitz is already waiting for us by the mural. “Ladies! I’m happy to see you both in one piece.” She greets us with a simple nod, but she sounds stoked.
I throw my arms around her. “Thank you for bringing my dad here.”
“You’re welcome. He’s unharmed and desperate to see his daughter. Shall we?”
“Absolutely.”
She takes us through the brightly lit lobby, where employees are filing in and out of the elevators. There aren’t any signs to let people know which elevator leads to where. There isn’t even a screen hanging over them to let people know which floor they’re on. The doors just open at random like a game of Whac-A-Mole. Agent Horowitz makes a beeline for the nearest one. She pushes the Magical Investigations button while Samira and I settle inside. Some people point at us, whispering like we’re the hottest gossip in town. Have they heard about what went down in Brazil? I’m sure they know about my team ditching the semifinals match.