But apparently, our bond has continued to strengthen because—
“Alita, oh, how I’ve missed your voice.” He sounds so tired.
“Yackros, I have good news. I found the author of that book.”
That sparks some life in his tone. “And?”
“Her name is Rohesia. She’s King Fyazum’s human.”
A roar suddenly bursts in my spirit, echoing in my mind, vibrating through my heart. I can’t help a laugh.
“Then the king is alive!” Yackros cries triumphantly.
“Oh, yes. Rohesia knows where he is and how we can save him. But she says it’s dangerous and risky. She is trying to train me physically and mentally. Today was the second day. I know we’re running out of time, and it’s probably pointless anyway, but it became too overwhelming.”
Max hums. Clearly irritated. He kicks at a rock.
I close my eyes, focusing only on Yackros. “And all I could think about is if I’m going to do this, spend every minute preparing to rescue Fyazum, I’m going to speak to you. I need your calm. I need your knowledge. I need hope. So don’t tell me not to sacrifice, to give up, or not to hold off on my life. This, this is my life. This is what I want. And I am fighting for it. So please, speak to me. Talk to me like you used to. Help me find a path that will bring us back together.” I didn’t know it was possible to convey so many emotions at once, or to speak them in my mind the way I would aloud.
“I’m sorry, Little Wingless. You are right. I love you dearly. I could never ask that you do this for me. But you must know that I too want it. I am quite literally incomplete without you. Since this banishment, I am blind, I am weak, I am cold. And I need you more than ever.” He sounds so sad.
“You have no idea how much I understand, though my situation is far better for the time being. And speaking of which, I have a question.” I pause, wondering how to broach the topic.
I glance at Max, who’s picking at the leaves on one of the tree branches. He raises his brows.
I close my eyes again. “I brought Max with me. He’s trying to help, even if he still doesn’t believe you’re real. I know I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I think everything has changed. And I can’t do this alone. Is there any chance you can communicate with him? Or are you limited to speaking with me?”
There’s silence, and I worry for a moment that something has happened.
Then—
“If it is important to you, I can try.”
I open my eyes, a smile lighting my face.
“Come here!” I say to Max, holding out my hand.
He takes my hand, and I pull him down to sit next to me on the grass.
“Close your eyes and listen. Yackros is trying to contact you.”
Max rolls his eyes first, but then he closes them and waits.
A sudden wave of iciness crashes over me, and Yackros’ voice thunders in my mind. “Alita, get away from him. He’s not safe!”
I jump and instinctively lean away from Max. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“There is magic in any living thing, much like an aura that tells us what we need to know. There is a darkness about Max. Someone who knows what to look for can tell the kind of person he is, what he will become, and the people of his past, present, and future who shape his aura. The signatures are unique, but this darkness . . . I’ve only ever seen something like it once before.”
“Is something supposed to be happening right now?” Max asks, yawning.
“And who was that?” I ask, feeling less confident than before. I glance at Max again, wondering if he knows, if he’s aware of this inherent evil around him, within him, causing the people and creatures in my life to question him.
“Séraphin. Ruxsiu’s bonded human.”
I run my hands through my hair, pulling out a few strands. I wrap them around my finger, twiddling with them as I contemplate how to respond to that. Is he actually saying Max is evil? Or is there just some kind of dark magic that clings to him? Is it possible to pick up dark auras from being near something bad, the way you would pick up the smell of smoke just from being near a campfire?
Could Max have a dragon and not know it? I mean, I suppose anyone in the world could. And until dragons can be a part of our lives again, there’s no way of knowing.
But I can’t imagine Max opening himself up to the life I want. Do Yackros and Rohesia have an issue with Max aside from his aura, or is this just some kind of weird prejudice based on magical mist?
And if that’s it, how could they expect me to figure that out on my own? Why didn’t Rohesia tell me? All she could say on the matter was that he wasn’t good for me. But she hasn’t even known me more than a few days.
“I’m sorry, Yackros,” I say, opening my eyes and jumping to my feet. “Come on, Max. We need to go.”
“Wait—what? You’re done?” He gets up and follows me. “I didn’t hear or sense anything dragon-y.”
“It doesn’t matter. I need to take you home. I just realized I—I promised my mom I’d make dinner since she’s working this big case and Dad has a swing shift. I’m sorry.” I don’t look at him. I can’t. I need time. I need space. And I need to gather up my research because one way or another, I’m going to find out if Yackros is right.
If it comes down to a moment when I have to put my life in his hands, would Max choose to save me, or would he let me fall? Is he refusing to believe dragons are real because to him, they are only mythical creatures? Or does he already know they’re out there, and his is evil?
We make it to the car and buckle up. I’m driving way too fast down the narrow dirt road, but I can’t seem to relax my foot on the gas pedal.
“Okay . . . I think this is more than just a chore. What’s wrong?” Max places his hand on my leg. “Are you mad at me?” I know he’s trying to be comforting, but at the moment, it’s just irritating.
“No, Max. It’s not about you. I’m sorry, okay? I just need a break. I’m tired and sore and I want to go home, shower, eat, and sleep. In that order.”
I wriggle my leg as much as possible with my foot on the gas pedal because I don’t want to seem rude or out of character and physically remove his hand, and I don’t have the energy to speak and know what I’ll say. Right now, with all the emotions coursing through me, it could be anything.
Luckily, he gets the hint and removes his hand. I don’t look at him or say anything. I’m worried about the assumptions I’ll make. Am I letting my emotions for him cloud my judgment? I glance over, watching his bouncing knee in my peripheral vision. I don’t see any dark cloud around him. Is that what an aura looks like? How do I tell? How could Rohesia? I mean, Yackros knowing it makes sense. But the old woman didn’t know anything about me when we first met. If she knows something about Max, why didn’t she know about me, that I really was trying to find proof of dragons’ existence?
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. This is all one big game of wits and war. The harder I try to win, the less likely I am to succeed. I take one step forward and am pushed ten steps back.
I pull into Max’s driveway and wait for him to get out. He pauses, and I know he wants closure, but I just can’t give him any. I have no answers, at least not ones he’ll like. And I’m certainly not going to accuse him of being evil without some kind of proof to back me up. Something aside from a bad aura.
“I’ll talk to you later. I hope you feel better. And Alita?” He waits patiently as I make the forced decision to turn and face him. “I love you. I hope you know that. I’m trying to understand, and I appreciate you giving me time. Today was a step in the right direction, I think, even if it was difficult at parts.” He bites his lip, which is so adorable. I’d totally want to kiss him if I wasn’t so upset.
“Thank you, Max. I’ll text you later.” I can’t say more without admitting something I’ll regret, so I keep it short.
He nods, as if he could understand, and gets out. I fight back tears and other strong emotions associated with them. I’
m not ready to go save a dragon. This is all too much for me to handle. I thought Max knowing would help. Instead, it’s tearing me apart even more.
Thankfully, the drive home is short. I park and go inside, welcomed by the warm scent of bacon, eggs, and waffles. It must be breakfast for dinner tonight, which will get no complaint from me. It’s one of my favorites. And I could use a delicious distraction.
“I’m home!” I holler, already on my way up the stairs.
“I assumed that much by the slamming of the front door. Want to talk about it?” Mom hollers back.
“Not really! I’m going to shower.” I rush to the bathroom, flinging off my clothes. I jump in the shower, letting warm water fall down over my body, gently massaging every aching inch of me.
I lather my hair with shampoo, scrubbing my scalp because it’s never felt so sticky from sweat. I didn’t even know it could sweat up there, which is just disgusting. By the time I get out, I feel like a whole new person—at least, on the outside.
There’s no scrubbing away my feelings on the inside, which is unfortunate. If I had a good soul loofah, maybe I’d be able to step back and look at everything critically. Objectively.
Then again, since I’m dating the subject in question, I don’t think there’s any hope for me.
Mom seems to be waiting for me when I enter the kitchen. “Now do you want to talk about what’s got you all upset? I don’t think I’ve heard a slamming door in some time. Is it Max related? Do I need to talk to him? Or his mother? You know I will.” She smiles, which I hope is an indication that she’s joking.
I smile back, trying to preserve that lightness. “Well, it is about Max, but it’s not anything he did or said.”
I sit down on the stool, eyeing the bacon in front of me.
Mom pulls it out of my reach and leans on the island across from me. “What happened?”
“Well . . .” I pick at a piece of something stuck to the tile. “What do you do when someone tells you your boyfriend is bad news?” I think about leaving it at that, but I know Mom will ask more questions. “I mean, if just one person says it, you can blow it off, right? Clearly, they just don’t like the person. But what if multiple people started telling you the same thing? Then do you just wonder for the rest of your life if they were right? Do you confront the boyfriend and ask him if he’s doing bad things when you’re not around?”
Her facial expression changes by the second, eyes widened, narrowed, brows furrowed, raised. Like she can’t make up her mind how she wants to respond.
Finally, she settles on one expression long enough to say, “Hun, who’s saying this about Max?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, trying to deflect. I can’t tell her my dragon said it. Or my dragon-bonded mentor. She’ll just have more questions I can’t answer, and solutions I don’t want. Like seeing a therapist.
“Well, if it’s a fellow student, it could be said out of jealousy. If it’s a teacher or faculty member, I find it highly inappropriate, but it could be out of genuine concern, if they know something about him that isn’t public news. Has he ever said or done anything to make you feel unsafe? Or like you can’t trust him?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s always been normal. I mean, we’ve had our disagreements, but nothing that would make him ‘bad news.’” I make air quotes with those last two words.
“Well, then, I think you have nothing to worry about. People say odd things all the time. Unless he hurts you in any way or makes you uncomfortable, I see nothing to worry about. He’s always treated you right, and I’ve always thought he was a good kid.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re right.” Not exactly, but I can’t tell her that. If this kind of talk against Max was coming from a kid my age, I’d agree with Mom. But given that’s not at all where I’m hearing it, I can’t be as sure.
“Shall we eat?” She jumps up and heads for the cabinet holding all the plates.
“Really? Without Dad?”
“He’s working late. Tonight it’s just you and me. What do you say to a chick flick?” She grins, seeming way too excited about it.
“That sounds like the perfect way to relax. I’m in!” I grab a plate and start filling it.
The day is going by painfully slow. I haven’t seen Max in the halls. It feels like it’s bedtime, though that could be because I’m still sore and achy from the last two days of training.
I’m ready to go home, and yet, I still have three classes to go. Luckily, I have thirty more minutes of lunch, which I spend wandering the halls because it hurts to sit for very long, thanks to Wren.
I walk past my locker, debating whether I should put my bag in there, when I hear a muffled call for help. It sounds vaguely familiar. I walk toward the sound and am hit with déjà vu. Five guys, standing around a locker, all laughing while a panicked voice calls from within, begging to be let free.
What are the chances that this will go better than last time?
Then again, how much worse could it get?
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I step up beside one of the shorter boys, resting my arm on his shoulder as though I belong.
“What’s up, bros?” I ask.
All laughing, chatting, and rude remarks die as they stare at me.
“Jim, did you get a girlfriend and not tell us?” One of the larger guys look at the guy I’m leaning on.
He shakes his head. “You weren’t at the party last weekend, were you?” he asks me.
“Aww, come on now. You don’t remember me?” I wink.
His face turns a violent shade of red, but he doesn’t answer.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Blondie asks. “Matt or Mark or something like that?” He looks at me quizzically.
“It’s Max,” one of the other guys says. “He’s on the team with me.”
“Then what are you doing here flirting with Jim?” Hazel Eyes asks. He doesn’t move from the front the locker, which is no longer making noise.
“I bet she’s trying to find someone who believes in ghosts and vampires and werewolves! I mean, now that you’ve got dragons covered, right?” Wrestler asks, smirking.
Looks like the jokes are still going around.
“Oh, I’m not flirting. I actually came over here to give you a chance to let the poor kid in the locker out—or risk getting shoved in there yourself.” I smile innocently.
“What are you going to do—get your big bad dragon to save you?” Jim makes a pouty face at me, rubbing his eyes like he’s wiping away tears. “Oh, no! Not the big dragon! Anything but that, Mommy.”
“Is Max jealous of your dragon?”
“Can I meet your dragon? Maybe he’ll eat my homework.”
One joke after another, coming from all five guys in the group, with no chance of them stopping any time soon. I push past all of them, ignoring the name calling, the insults, the jokes, and pry open the locker, letting the boy out.
I’m glad he seems okay because when he stopped hollering, I got worried. I drown out all the jokes, searching for any feeling of Yackros in my mind as I begin walking away.
“Hey, wait! We’re not done!” One of the guys grabs my shoulder, yanking me back.
I turn, fist ready, punching him square in the face. The only audible sound for that split second is my knuckle making a nasty crunch as it connects with his now-bleeding nose.
There’s a stream of expletives as he bends over, covering his face to catch all the blood. I don’t stick around a moment longer, not wanting any more trouble.
And I feel bad. I really do. I don’t know why I did it. Adrenaline? Fear? Anger? I wish I knew. I wish I didn’t feel so many things all at once. I wipe away the wetness from my eyes and head straight for my car.
All I really want to do is go home and sleep. For a very long time. Instead, I go to Rohesia’s. I’ll train with Wren or meditate with Rhys.
The ceiling fan above me spins, making me dizzy, yet I can’t seem to look away. Even as I slowly close my eyes, I can see i
t in my mind, going round and round and round.
I could get up and turn it off, but I know the second I stand, I’ll force myself to keep going. To get dressed, go to school, listen to teachers drone on and on, hear a snide comment about dragons, and then off to Rohesia’s house, where I’ll have to train with Wren—who chided me for using my newfound strength to help someone rather than being proud, which was embarrassing—meditate with Rhys, and deal with Rohesia dancing around my questions to avoid answering any of them honestly.
Everything hurts too much anyway. So here I lie, waiting for motivation to find me.
My phone buzzes loudly, announcing a call. I refuse to lift my arm even to reject it. As soon as the buzzing stops, it starts again, nearly vibrating itself off my nightstand.
It’s either Max or Rohesia, and I don’t want to talk to either of them.
I close my eyes, wishing this could all end. I don’t have what it takes to do any good.
“I’m so sorry, Yackros. I’ve failed you in the worst way.”
I roll over, prepared to fall back asleep and let my worries drift away.
“Alita,” his voice says softly.
I sit up, alarmed. He sounds so distant. I realize that’s because he physically is, but I feel it in my heart too.
“Yackros?” I say aloud, not meaning to.
“I need you, Alita. The pearl is nearly lost. Ruxsiu’s power over the dragons has grown too much. We have mere days before he will be able to control every single one of us. Please don’t give up now. I need you.” His words break apart like static on the phone.
I throw the covers back, grabbing my phone from my nightstand as I get to my feet. Five missed calls from Rohesia. I hit the call back button and hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I change my clothes, pulling on my cargo pants.
“Alita?” Rohesia exclaims the moment she picks up.
“What’s going on? Why did you call me so many times?” I already know, but I don’t want to assume anything. Not with her.
Dragon Wings Page 16